


Under the California Sun

by RoseAmaranth



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Background Tyler Breeze/Fandango, Bickering, Chaptered, Dance Instructor Fandango, Dance Instructor Lana, Dancer Maryse, Dancer Miz, Dancer Tyler Breeze, Falling In Love, Flirting, Jealousy, M/M, Mentions of past Summer Rae/Tyler Breeze, Minor Background Relationships, Minor Swearing, New Year's Eve, One-sided Carmella/Miz, Personal Trainer Dolph Ziggler, Secret Santa, Tags to be added, Teasing, Work In Progress, mentions of threesomes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 78,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseAmaranth/pseuds/RoseAmaranth
Summary: Mike is a professional dancer. Dolph is his new fitness trainer and nutrition expert.
Relationships: The Miz/Dolph Ziggler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. When I Grow Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"But I ain't complaining_
> 
> _We all wanna be famous_
> 
> _So go ahead and say what you wanna say._
> 
> _You don't know what it's like to be nameless_
> 
> _Want them to know what your name is"_
> 
> \- "When I Grow Up" by The Pussycat Dolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, with this particular fic, I decided to try picking a relevant song to title each chapter with, and then a lyric that relates to what happens in the story. It's a fun little exercise for me. 
> 
> Check them out if you'd like! They are pretty good songs if I do say so myself. :) x

Sweat trickled down his back as he bowed, legs incredibly sore but spirits refusing to be crushed. He finally - _finally_ \- nailed the choreography in one go, one that was particularly tricky and offered to the class as a bonus challenge they could present for some extra credit. Mike switched off the music and dropped onto the cool hardwood floor for his stretching. Dancing was one of those things that brought him immense joy and a good deal of pain. And he relished every single second of it. From aching muscles to broken bones, he's been through it all in the twenty years he has been dancing, and he couldn't find any regret for a single moment.

Not when he just mastered one of the most complicated and electrifying routines to date.

He breathed through his stretches like he was taught in his very first days of dance, extending his hands past his toes and sighing when he leaned back. His muscles always responded perfectly to the tension and release of his static stretches, though it was still his least favorite part of being a dancer. It was kind of drilled into his head pretty early (by experience and mentors alike) that it was probably the most important thing a dancer could do for their body. Keeping limber and flexible allowed him to perfect his movements, maintain fluidity while moving, and kept his muscles from getting pulled or torn while he danced. Something like dancing already wasn't natural for the Mizanin body, and he was not about to let anything stop him from doing what he loved.

So, he stretched. Thoroughly. Patiently. Diligently. 

While he worked through his final stretches, he reflected over his journey from troublesome college frat boy with little idea of what his future held to one of the better dancers at his academy. It all started with a trip to New York with his mother. Free tickets to a ballet he took because he was going to New York City! A teen boy from Parma, Ohio was not going to pass up the chance to see one of the more famous cities in the world. Even if it meant sitting through...ballet. Which, yes, that was a boring show. He nearly fell asleep during it, getting nasty looks from all the stuffy ladies while their equally bored husbands or sons sighed softly next to them.

As a seasoned dancer, he could appreciate the incredible work those ladies went through to put on that show. But at the time? He only cared about seeing a cool place and bragging to his friends about all the moves he made on babes in the biggest city on the East Coast. And the dozen or so slaps he got for his idiotic efforts. His breathing was interrupted by a short laugh at the memory of the girls he flirted with (quite poorly, by the way) and how many times he had to ice his face from the punches he received by tough Italian dudes not putting up with this scrawny kid from Ohio hitting on their girlfriend or sister. 

His love for dance didn't come until much later. A friend of his invited him to her show, promising he would really love it. Sure, Mike would _love_ seeing ten or twenty stuck up girls in leotards or skirts or whatever prancing around the stage like deer in the spring. But he didn't have much else to do at the time, so he tagged along. Maybe he could get a number. Get smacked some more. Cussed out. Whatever. 

He realized two things that night: one, that dancing wasn't just ballet shoes and tutus. The people on the stage wore sneakers and sweats and danced to upbeat music with plenty of bass. Enjoyable. The second thing was that guys could actually dance too; and not look like idiots or prissy-types while doing it. No leotards that looked really uncomfortable. No tinkling music. Just incredible moves and music he actually might listen to and enjoy.

He went twice more, attended a couple classes, and that was it. He was hooked.

His father was, at first, horrified when Mike came home from being away at college for merely five months proclaiming he was dropping out and moving to LA or New York to become a dancer. Mike never knew his dad to be one who cared about boys doing 'girl things', so it surprised him his dad reacted the way he did. He wouldn't meet Mike's eye for a week, coughing or changing the subject whenever Mike tried to talk about his plans. It hurt his feelings for a while, not having the approval of his dad, but then it was later admitted he thought 'dancing' was a euphemism for becoming a stripper. Once he sent his dad videos of classes and practices, his father congratulated him on chasing a dream. He even attended one of his big performances a few years ago. And loved it.

His mother, sweet woman that she was, didn't even care what he decided to do with his life or his body or anything; so long as he visited more than once a year and called her every morning and evening, she was happy to see him following his heart. It was always nice to have such a supportive team at home (especially when he saw those who didn't have it break down in the dressing rooms), cheering him on when it seemed like the world – and the dance instructors – were fighting against him. 

He scooped up his sweater just as Kofi Kingston – one of the senior dancers along with Mike - came in the room, abs flashing in his stupid cropped sweatshirt he insisted was in style and _wasn't_ at all ridiculous. Mike often wondered if those abs of his were painted on because they were just....they seemed unreal. Kofi was really something on the floor. It was insane the way he moved around, as if his legs weren't even part of him. Like they had minds of their own. Kofi was one of the most agile and gifted dancers in the group. 

He was so damn good.

“Hey, Mikey. You finished in here? I wanted to take another crack at _Madame Lana's_ routine.” Mike rolled through the final stretch and grunted to his feet. He was due for a steaming shower and dinner anyway.

“All done. The floor is yours, my man. Say, did Lana happen to mention when we're getting back to work? When and what our first show is going to be? I've been itching to get on that stage again.” Normally, classes took place sporadically throughout the summer, picking up full-time in the fall and spring seasons. Shows would be performed for about eight-week tours, normally around holidays to entice people to come out with their families. They were given the summer to explore other avenues, train, relax, and do whatever they wanted before the fall to spring season came in.

Mike hated the off-season because it left him restless and hungry for more dancing. More _excitement_. Natalya tried to tempt him into attending her academy, which offered dozens of classes during the summer, but Mike was loyal to Lana and the two academies were apparently having a feud.

Why couldn't everyone just....dance? Why did it have to be a war?

“Actually, she said she's been planning on sending a few of her most promising students to LA for some festival coming up. I think she's announcing it once classes are back in session.” Three weeks. Man, Mike couldn't wait. He wished Kofi luck and hurried down to his car, digging his phone out to text his mom the good news and the possible flight to LA he now had to prepare for. Because despite his limitations and shortcomings, he was one of the best. And he would have the best damn audition in the state.

His keys found their home on the table, tossed haphazardly as he pushed through the creaking door of his apartment. It stuck when it rained and the lock was about as good at keeping out intruders as the clear wrap they used to cover toilet seats in high school as their senior prank. He chuckled fondly at the memory, at how stupid they all really were back then. 

The apartment wasn't big, nor was it worth the two grand a month he paid to call it home, but it was his. And that was what mattered. 

He tossed the vegetables sizzling in the skillet, a delicious mixture of broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and crisp green beans. Drizzle some oil, toss in some garlic and seasonings, give it a few minutes over medium heat and voila! A perfect side to his chicken and rice. His stomach grumbled at him to hurry up and give it something. He normally ate something before he went to the studio open to all students at Lana's school twenty hours a day, but it was a small snack so he didn't, like, throw up everywhere. So, yeah, he was famished.

Cooking for himself was just one of the things he had to figure out once he moved to New York - laundry was still a pain in his ass – but it wasn't nearly enough to chase him away from the dream he was chasing. He was in love with the adrenaline, the pride he felt when he completed a tough routine, and he obsessively worked in the studio for nearly three hours. Three times a week in the summer. Twice when classes were back. Dance was his drug – his beginning and end – and he wouldn't trade it for anything. Even when he was younger - back when he was lanky and awkward, still trying to find his footing – he knew this was for him. So, he worked. Even when it was hard. Even when he was advised to pursue other things. Hey, he was a Mizanin and Mizanins never gave up. They didn't quit. No, they worked harder and smarter than anyone else in the room. 

Which was exactly how he got to where he was, making far more money than he ever dreamed.

He sat on his couch, his dinner polished off and reruns of the Simpsons playing quietly on the television while he studied some dancers on YouTube. With something as big as LA and festivals coming, Lana was going to have them audition with a freestyle of their choice to see who would best fit in with the style that was LA dancing. Mike made sure to check out the _Fandango's Dancers Academy_ channel in particular as they were the biggest school over there.

Lana was going to want the best of the best, and damn it Mike _was_ the best.

So, he studied the different choreographers for an hour or so before flicking off his television and slipping into bed, dreams of dancing in the spotlight carrying him through the night.

'Thank you all for trying out. I know everyone is itching to find out who we have decided on, so without further ado, here are the six lucky dancers headed to LA to get a taste of _FAN-DAN-GO!_ ” Mike nibbled on a carrot stick and kicked Lexi's leg when she nudged him and waggling her eyebrows at him. Two hundred hopefuls filled the floor, some along the walls and mirrors, each making their statement on the floor and watching their competition with calculating expressions. He never felt such intensity while trying to dance before, and it made him nervous. Maybe he slipped up under the pressure. Maybe all his hard work and practice wasn't going to be good _enough_ \- not special enough – to stand in the presence of one of the greatest choreographers alive to date. 

Anyone in the dance world knew who Fandango (aka Johnny Curtis) was; hell, Mike was just studying his videos like a psycho for weeks to perfect his audition piece.

He would absolutely die for the opportunity to meet him. Learn from him.

“Tyler Breeze.” The lithe man with a new haircut strut to the front of the room, turning back towards the waiting hopefuls with a snap of his gum and radiating confidence. Mike actually despised the guy when he first joined the academy, but Tyler finally dropped that stupid facade of his and revealed he was just a dorky gamer from Canada who loved to dance and take other dancers home with him nearly as much. 

He tried that shit on Mike when he first joined, flirting with him the moment he stepped into the room, but it didn't get far. Once Mike turned him down enough times, he shrugged it off and invited Mike out to pool and pizza with some friends. They were pretty close now, the two of them watching hockey and football at Mike's on occasion and working through new routines together. Breezey was probably the second best in their class, only after...

“Summer Rae.” Tyler's on-again-off-again flame. An absolute firecracker on the dance floor, and not someone you wanted to get on the bad side of. She was a good friend of Mike's as well, helping him with some of the more difficult footwork and trying to set him up on dates pretty much all the time. She certainly deserved to go to LA. She looked like an LA girl, anyway.

Ty's face was one for the books, the wolf-whistling as she strut to the front of the room riling a stern glare from him even as she blew kisses to various parts of the room. Mike smothered a laugh at the two of them. Always putting on a show.

“Patrick 'Velveteen Dream' Clark.” Yep. That was it. Case closed. Mike knew there was no way he made the cut. Velveteen Dream...Summer...Ty? They were all incredible dancers, fiery personalities, and _ridiculously_ hot. Dream oozed so much charisma and flair, his dangle earrings swinging as he paraded to stand beside Summer, the two doing their little handshake. The three of them were perfect for LA, whereas Mike was more suited to cold stiff New York. He wasn't half the entertainer they were, nor was he anywhere as good on the floor.

He was not going to LA. His heart broke, but he tried to keep it off his face. Swallow down the jealousy because they really deserved it.

“Carmella.” Three girls squealed from the other side of the room, one wearing pants with _money_ printed on them jumping up and darting to the front of the room. This girl wasn't someone Mike knew, but her performance was incredible. She stood out with her rendition of _'High Heels'_ by JoJo. It was sexy. It was _good._

Man, he hated his stupid genetics. It was clear to him now he was not making the cut. There were dozens of other gorgeous people who took the floor and blew away everyone watching. They had better clothes, better songs they danced to, and they didn't have a stupid ass haircut Mike was ready to sue his barber over. Seriously, he looked like he was twelve!

“Mike Mizanin.” He nearly missed his name being called, figuring it was someone not him anyway, except Lexi squealed next to him and every eye in the room turned to him. He stood on trembling legs, ears buzzing and heart pounding against his sternum. Once he was at the front, still certain he misheard and would have to make the embarrassing walk back to his seat on the floor, Ty pulled him into a hug and congratulated him with an excited shout and a kiss to his cheek. He didn't care what was happening. He was on Cloud 9.

Mike 'Two Left Feet' Mizanin was seriously going to LA to see and work for Fandango! Eat your hearts out, Dillion Carter and Jasmine Kelley!

He missed whoever was called last, the disappointment and jealousy thick in the air unable to pierce his bubble as he followed Ty and Dream to the office to sign paperwork and receive the information. He wasn't able to really absorb the information from his seat in the clouds, but he would ask Ty to fill him in over celebratory sundaes after.

_“Now loading Flight 638 to Los Angeles.”_ Mike thanked the lady who checked his bags and bumped shoulders with Breeze. Carmella and Lexi were sipping at their Starbucks drinks and chatting animatedly off to one side, while Dream carried Summer on his back through the terminal, businessmen in suits glaring at them. 

“Can you believe we are going to be meeting Fandango?” Tyler popped a grape in his mouth and moaned. A lady in a pinstripe suit scoffed at his behavior, but Mike only chuckled. He was used to Tyler's....dramatics.

“ _No_ , and I am so excited for this opportunity! I have always had the biggest crush on him, and now I have the chance to conquer two dreams at once in the city of angels.” Mike rolled his eyes, not surprised Tyler was hoping to snag the gorgeous choreographer. If Mike wasn't already comfortably bisexual, that man would have had him second-guessing himself the moment he saw him dancing to _'Toxic'_ by Britney Spears. 

“Good luck, Ty. Not that you'll need it.” Ty beamed. “Probably.” Summer and Dream spun around, nearly taking out a guy in a sharp suit shouting into his phone. Ty grunted at him, throwing a grape at him. Somehow, Mike caught it between his teeth, grinning smugly at Ty's owlish expression. They melted into laughter, following after Carmella and Lexi towards the loading area.

“What? Not going to fist fight me for the honor of getting to sleep with our sexy dance instructor? Something so forbidden and taboo must be _ever_ so tempting to Mister Goody Two Shoes.” Mike had a reputation for always following the rules and never getting into trouble. He ate responsibly, did all his stretches, and never slept with the instructors or fellow dancers. 

It was his rule to never mix work with pleasure.

“Nah. He's not my type, anyway. You may end up fighting with Summer, though. I heard her waxing poetically about his abs to Carmella in the queue.” Tyler turned to look at his currently off-again lover and smirked.

“You would think that, Mikey boy, but I'm thinking along the lines of threesomes. Real fun stuff.” He glanced over at Mike, looking him up and down. “Could be a foursome if you ask nicely.” Mike shook his head with a laugh and finished off his shake. Being in LA meant fun in the sun – and the sack – for his friends, but for Mike? It was all about endless hard work. Dancing. Being his best. He planned on linking up with a personal trainer while he was in town to get in his best shape for the festival, and he intended to spend any free time practicing, studying, and hopefully finding time to eat.

He wouldn't mind a little yoga on the beach, though. Maybe on Sundays.

His friends would probably tease him for not having any 'real fun' in California, but this could be the big thing that rocketed his career to new heights. He couldn't waste it getting drunk and hooking up with people. Not that it was his idea of 'fun' anyway. Still, he was all business in the city of angels. The fun would come after the hard work. He wasn't interested in anything but his work at the moment, and that made him happy. So, he didn't care what they thought of him.

“Well, your loss. Maybe one of Dango's students will want to join in. The more the merrier, right?” Well, he would take Tyler's word for that. Frankly, Mike preferred just the regular two people. It made things a lot easier, not having to worry about getting left out or dealing with another body crowding the bed.

“Come on, slowpokes! Cali awaits the _Dream_!” Mike and Tyler hurried after their friends, laughing when Carmella fell on her ass and Dream sprawled out on the ground with exaggerated flair, Summer squealing as everyone rolled across the disgusting floor. He hoped California was ready for these East Coast drama queens.

Rain greeted them when they stepped off the plane at LAX, Carmella and Lexi whining that their hair was going to get ruined while Dream squealed – an actual _squeal_ \- and hurried back inside. He returned with plastic on his hair and dutifully helped the girls with theirs. Tyler and Mike had shorter hair than the others, and Mike was hardly high maintenance when it came to styling it or products, so once everyone else was thoroughly covered up, they made their way over to the driver brandishing a sign for the academy and piled into the car. Mike squeezed between Carmella and Tyler, while Dream, Summer, and Lexi sat across from them. Already the party was helping themselves to the champagne, though Mike refused a chute handed to him.

Ty snorted, snatching up the glass meant for Mike without much fuss. Everyone else shook their heads with amused smiles. Yeah, he was probably about as fun as a rock, but he couldn't be bothered to care if they found him to be boring or lame. He was here to make a statement, raise his dancing credibility, and that was all that mattered. They would have enough fun to cover for him, anyway. 

“Okay, who wants to take a couple bets?” Dream crossed his leg over his knee, studying Ty while sipping on his champagne. Summer urged him on after a couple of seconds. “Good. So, first, who is going to be the first to get laid on California soil?” Dream raised a brow while Mike groaned quietly and fiddled with his water bottle.

“Like, actually _on_ the soil? Because I did that once. Dirt in places the Dream don't shine for days, ladies!” Lexi and Summer giggled, while Carmella reached out and snatched Dream's sunglasses. Mike leaned back against the velvet interior of the limo. An actual limo.

“No. But bonus points for doing it on the beach.” Mike wrinkled his nose at the idea of sex on the sandy beaches polluted by tourists and locals alike. It looked hot in the movies, but he could only picture the sand sticking to sweaty bodies and finding its way into places it really shouldn't be in. Especially for a dancer. Maybe he just wasn't the adventurous type, because everyone else perked up right away.

Or maybe he just had more sense.

“Now, does it count if we hook up with someone in this car?” Tyler shook his head at Carmella.

“Unless they are part of a little threesome action or something, deffo no. New blood.” Dream rubbed his chin and sighed.

“As much as I want it to be me, I have the impression Summer already has a plan and a man in mind. So, my bet is on her.” Mike agreed, though he also knew Tyler had a similar man and plan in mind, so he placed his money on Ty. Lexi also chose Summer, Summer giggled and bet on Ty, and Carmella picked Dream. Tyler sighed as dramatically as possible and kicked his foot at Summer to convey his vote.

“Mike, you've been awful stoic there with your water bottle. What are your plans for Cali?” Carmella was getting used to the crew, and therefore didn't yet know Mike was about as fun and interesting as a can of soup compared to the likes of Tyler Breeze and Patrick 'Velveteen Dream'. He was a priest among sinners in this car.

'Might hit the beach if I have time. Get some sunshine. I'm mostly going to focus on dance and stretching. Getting enough sleep. Stuff like that. I have a friend out here who knows this great personal trainer, so I'll probably be busy with that too.” Mella pouted at him and bat her lashes, the others snickering around them and drinking champagne. Yet another person disappointed by his level of adventure (that being none at all), but he was just too focused on making his career incredible to worry about flings or dating anyway. So, he only smiled back and shrugged.

“Guys, wouldn't it be wild if _Mikey boy_ had some hot ass Cali boy for his trainer and surprised us all by getting a little _some some_?” He couldn't imagine anyone being distracting enough for him to deviate from his tight training schedule, but it was a fun thought regardless. Mella again was eyeing him from her spot on his right, champagne emptied quickly and penciled eyebrow raised.

“ _Oh_ , you like...” Mike crossed his ankle over his knee and shook his head. He was open about his sexuality, has been since he was around sixteen and realized he definitely attracted to some of the guys at his school, and he didn't mind telling people he found both men and women attractive. 

Besides, it's not like it would matter. Dance was his focus. If he could ignore the likes of Breeze or Lex, who were rather attractive people, he would bet he'd be just fine in L.A.

“Men and women, actually.” Tyler slung his arm around Mike's shoulders.

“ _But_ preferably dudes, right?” Actually, preferably weights and healthy dinners and glossy floors waiting to be danced on. But sure, he didn't mind a solid body and thick musk on occasion. Not that he had issues with someone like Mella, who was gorgeous.

He wasn't looking for anything other than dance at the moment, though.

“Honestly, gender isn't really a big thing for me. Guy or girl...doesn't really matter. If they are a great person and can make me laugh, I would be sold.” The car stopped, excitement fizzling in the car as they gathered their things and waited to be released from their little bubble. The driver opened the door, nodding to them as the stepped into the dazzling city. Mike thanked him – shaking hands with the wide-eyed driver - and turned to find their new home (for the next six months) gleaming in the sunshine breaking through the rain and clouds, honking horns and chatty pedestrians drowned out in the buzz of excitement and adrenaline in his ears. 

This was where he was meant to be. He could feel it in his blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yowie wowie! A new chaptered fic! This should be fun...
> 
> Maybe it will meet a better fate than most of my others? Stay tuned.
> 
> I probably should mention that I am not an expert in anything I'm writing about. I watch dance videos online and I follow some personal trainers. Most of my knowledge comes from what I have found online, so I''m going to apologize now to anyone who reads this and shakes their head at how clueless I am about how this would really go down.
> 
> I figure it's my story, my fictional world, my characters, and I can make them do what I want. Realistically or otherwise. But I get that feeling. So I'm sorry, and I hop you can suspend your disbelief for a moment and enjoy. 
> 
> That's all I have! 
> 
> Rose x


	2. The Greatest Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Oh, this is the greatest show!_
> 
> _We light it up, we won't come down_
> 
> _And the sun can't stop us now._
> 
> _Watching it come true, it's taking over you._
> 
> _Oh, this is the greatest show!"_
> 
> \- "The Greatest Show" from 'The Greatest Showman'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see what California has to offer!
> 
>  **EDIT 4/22/20:** So, I decided the original title 'Circus' fit better with chapter 8. Wish I thought of this before I was so deep into the story but that's life.

The music blaring from the stereo nearly drowned out their petite instructor at the front of the room. Mike struggled to keep up due to the different tempo and style; adding the short commands he could barely understand really did not help. He already had a hard time with dancing - more than the others – and trying to nail down the routine when he could hardly hear when to move left. He rarely complained about it because that was the fun part of dancing- the challenge. The frustration and hours he had to put into it to make it _perfect._ The adrenaline of performing to crowds. The burn in his muscles from a good choreography.

He just hoped his...learning curve didn't dismiss him from the festival. The dancers chosen for this particular performance were supposed to be the best of the best; they were supposed to be able to master a simple choreography and be quick on their feet. It normally took him a few days of intense studying and practice before he could get through the routine smoothly, but he was surrounded by people who seemed to soak it in and run with it. Like machines reading a code. Mike was good, he knew that, but maybe not what they were looking for. 

That fear pushed him to listen better and focus even more than before. Memorize the commands and take note of the master students showing off the perfected performance near the front, memorizing their movements to work on in the mirror at the studio. Because he knew there were backups brought along in the case one of them was unable to perform for some reason, and he did not want to be the one who had to sit it out because his stupid genetics made dancing ten times harder for him than for someone like Mella or Dream.

Fandango, the owner of the school and the head choreographer, watched them all with a tilt to his head and a raised brow. His hair was perfectly styled (as it always was whenever Mike saw him on YouTube) and his clothes a rather... eccentric design. Honestly, it would look ridiculous on anyone else, but of course he made it work. Because he was _Fandango._ His lips formed a distracting pout that had Tyler of all people stepping on his own feet and Summer falling on her ass. Twice.

He had yet to address the class, entering silently while they ran through the routine in small groups, but Mike knew he was very hands-on with his classes. He was the type who would go one-on-one if a student really needed it. There was nothing but high praise for Fandango and his teaching methods, so he was certain the man would have something for them once the session was over. He was probably just...taking them in. Assessing how they could gel with his students. 

“Okay, run the song once more!” Ariana Grande's voice shook the room as the track revved up again, Mike grumbling about the stupidly catchy song he knew would be stuck in his head for weeks. That happened to him often since dancers had the song for their dance every time they practiced. At least a lot of the time it was a song he didn't completely hate. The room – twelve dancers from the East Coast and the three backups - danced once more through the upbeat track, Mike thinking he was never going to be able to hear the word 'greedy' again without thinking of Ariana freaking Grande.

After the final run, Mike and the rest of the team collapsed onto the dance floor, Fandango nodding and making his way to the front of the room finally to speak. For the first few weeks of their stay in California, the two teams from the East Coast would train and practice together in order to acclimate them to the western style, and then they would join Fandango's Master Class to rehearse more songs for the festival in the spring. For now, they had Ariana's 'Greedy' to work with. For two weeks.

Lexi drained her water bottle and half of his while Mike performed the cool-down stretches, everyone else whispering and darting their eyes to Fandango. He was indeed better looking in person, everything about him precise, sharp, masculine, and flawless. He also carried an air of mystery with him, never letting his emotions slip or expression falter. Tyler, between catching his breath and guzzling a zero-calorie berry-flavored Gatorade, whispered furiously to Mike about how hard the classes were going to be if Fandango was always around watching.

“That was quite good. Lana and Nattie did a fine job selecting students who possess charisma, talent, and spunk. I'll work on grooving you into our western-style and costume. But, for now, fantastic job. Come back early tomorrow morning for stretches and another class.” Dismissed, people staggered to their feet, mumbling complaints and plans to nap or ice down their sore muscles filling the air. See, this was why he always stretched. Mike stayed silent, meditating on Fandango's words and running through the steps again. He would probably attempt it two more times in his dorm room before officially calling it a day.

“Mike. Hey, you want to grab some lunch with the others? We're going out to some sandwich bistro place with Nattie's students. Try to get to know them, y'know.” Mike snorted and adjusted his bag, finally on his feet.

“What you mean to say is you're looking to see who might sleep with you. I know that bet is still on, and I'm counting on you to make me a winner.” Tyler laughed and shook his head.

“Okay, you caught me. But we are actually heading out to lunch. You in or what?” Well, he couldn't deny the opportunity to socialize when it would affect the team. If the dancers lacked connectivity and chemistry, the audience would be able to tell and their performance would be a flop. He wasn't going to sleep with their rivals like Tyler was planning on doing, but he could get to know them. Plus, he _was_ starving.

“Okay. Count me in.”

Count. Him. _Out_. So far, the only conversation happening was flirtatious bordering on inappropriate, and at least three people tried to hit on him while he was simply looking over the menu. He tried to politely give them the impression he wasn't interested, but even an hour later he was having to ignore or deny them. 

One was a gorgeous woman with a thick accent named Rosa, her hand still resting on his thigh no matter how many times he tried to brush her off. Then there was a spirited guy named Seth, who was currently engaged in a fiery flirtatious conversation with Ty, but playing footsie with him (more like _at_ him since he wasn't playing) under the table. A girl with blue hair and sun-kissed skin who referred to herself as 'the boss' would giggle at everything he said and touch his hand over and over. 

It was all making lunch less enjoyable than it really could be, so he asked for a box and excused himself from the crew. Not really caring if they noticed because he was so over this experience. He didn't come here to make friends or to socialize. That might be some people's thing – good for them - but it wasn't his.

Until he was on a stage with bright lights, living his dream, he was head down and obsessively focused on the shining light he was gunning for. Making friends and partying and finding love? All that could wait. He had one shot to get it right, and he was not letting it get screwed up.

Breeze was in the middle of a series of stories from his beginning years of dance while beaming at Seth and throwing winks to a couple of the girls around the table. Summer was practically in the lap of some guy named Xavier, and Dream had his arm around the back of this one girl's chair and shaking his head at Ty's story. No one paid him any attention, though he knew Ty would realize he was missing and come after him later on. Tell him he was a bit of an asshole and that the others thought him stuck up. 

He knew he should care a little, make an effort here, but he was not in any mood to entertain their banter. This luncheon was uninteresting and not beneficial to him or the team, so he had no reason to stick around. He was beyond stressed out about everything going on right now, making sure he was perfect in everything, and maybe it brought out his bad side a little. He heaved an internal sigh that sank into his soul, pushing the burning anger away and settling him a little as he walked away.

He would apologize later, try harder to get along the rest of the stay. But he needed to rest and partake in a little self-care.

He was up to his chin in bubbles, the air heavy with the scent of soothing salts and oils when Breeze and the team came in, the clock on the wall reading twenty after ten. Seems the team spent the whole afternoon together and probably had dinner after. Ty sat on the toilet seat, peeking into the tub before leaning back with a disappointed frown. He hid a smirk and tried to ignore Ty's presence.

“You missed out on a lot of team bonding today, Mikey.” As he predicted, Ty was going to grill him about his disappearance at lunch. Ty got on his nerves nearly all the time with his flirting and nosiness, and Ty just couldn't seem to wrap his mind around why someone would prefer sitting indoors watching Netflix over going out, but they were still crazy close. The two of them looked after each other and stuck close when things got difficult. Like last summer when Tyler's mom died so suddenly and Ty wanted to give up dancing for good. Or a few years ago when a serious foot injury threatened Mike's dancing career. 

He just learned to accept (and then ignore) the annoying behaviors because he genuinely cared about Ty. Wanted to look after him and make sure he was good. It's what friends do after all. Good or bad, hills or valleys, they were there for one another.

“Am I a winner of the bet yet?” A dry chuckle filled the room, Mike opening an eye, finding Tyler watching him with furrowed brows.

“I'm serious. I know how difficult it can be for you, Mikey, and I also know we need everyone to get along if we're going to make this festival. I don't want you getting left out because they see you can't gel with Nattie's group and decide it ruins the performances. I know how much this all means to you, man.” Well, his relaxing bath was officially over then. Breeze seemed uncharacteristically serious, which meant Mike needed to be serious as well. And sitting in a lavender bubble bath with candles and soft music probably wasn't very serious.

“Can you give me a couple minutes? We can talk in the living room.” Ty nodded and scooped up some bubbles, dropping them on Mike's hair and giggling when Mike splashed the water at him. 

Once he was gone, Mike eased out of the tub and grunted at the soreness in his legs and ass. Tomorrow was going to be a bitch, as were the next few weeks until his body got used to the different style. He toweled his hair and pulled on his sleeping shorts, clicking the door behind him and wandering into the living room area. Tyler was watching something on the television, eyes drooping and head nodding.

“You should probably get some sleep. Early day tomorrow.” His friend perked up and patted the couch. 

“Nice try, Mikey Boy. Come sit.” Mike chuckled and dropped next to him.

“Fine. You know, I distinctly remember being the one who gave the speeches.” Breeze pinched his cheek and cooed at him, Mike batting him off with a roll of his eyes. He always thought of Tyler as like his little brother, but he could also be quite the mother hen. He was almost worse than his actual mother. And _that_ was quite the accomplishment.

“Your memory was always shit and you know it. And I don't really have a speech for you. Just... promise me you'll make an effort to get to know the crew?” Ty shifted so they were eye-to-eye. “I know you didn't love lunch today because everyone was being...they were a lot. But I promise they aren't bad. Even for Natalya's students.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes. Ty was right, as he normally was, but it wasn't exactly that easy for him. Not this time around.

In New York, with Ty and company, there wasn't exactly a choice for him. He could run away from their annoying behavior – the teasing, the stupid comments, the propositions of the _unprofessional_ variety - or he could buckle down and get through it. And he did. Because he wanted to dance too damn much to let people bother him. 

This time, however, he didn't _have_ to do anything. He didn't have to be their friend or learn to deal with them. In five months, he wouldn't ever have to see any of these people again. But Mike knew this wasn't the time to make a stand. He could swallow his pride and push through. Again, it was only five months. He was a man.

“It'll be fine, Ty. You know me; I'm a good sport. Everything will work out. I mean, we all get along just fine. After you realized I'm not into the _same things_ as you.” He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, Ty watching him for a moment before nodding once and kicking his leg. 

“I still think you are secretly smitten with me and are just six-feet-deep in denial. But whatever. Just don't get kicked off the team, okay?” He snorted, flicking through the channels until he found some stupid reality show on. Ty groaned at the choice, but they didn't even bother changing it. Mike nudged Ty's leg.

“So, any ideas on how you're gonna get Dango?” As expected, he launched into this rather detailed plan on getting the choreographer to bed with him. Truthfully, he was happy this was all happening for Ty. As much as he screwed around with people and talked up a big game, he knew there was something different about this one. He couldn't be sure what it was exactly – just a gut feeling – but he hoped there would be confetti and not shadows and heartbreak down the road he was heading. The man deserved it. 

“We should probably get some sleep. Who knows what's in store for us tomorrow? This place makes Lana's look like a high school prom or something. I'm kind of nervous. When's the last time I was nervous to do anything on the dance floor? With my body?” Mike agreed. Everything was riding on them succeeding here. For Mike, his career could be launched from this moment. The festival was extremely popular in California, which meant a lot of big names would be watching. One of them might like Mike and ask him to dance with them on big stages across the country.

A man could dream.

It was doubly nerve-wracking knowing one of the biggest names in dance was watching over them. Mike was no natural at dancing or making his body move as smoothly as someone like Ty. It took effort and work for him to make it look half-decent. He had so much pressure on his shoulders, but he was always ready to face a challenge. To overcome. 

“Dude, you're incredible. No one can deny you deserve to be here. That you're damn good. Just, I don't know, focus on something else. That's what I do.” Ty snorted.

“Is that why you're always a beat behind?” Mike slapped a pillow on his face, the two of them breaking into a fit of laughter for a few minutes. Nerves crackled between them, but if there was one thing they knew how to do, it was make the other feel better. 

They watched a few more minutes of some cooking show that was on and then Mike ruffled his friend's hair and they both set off for bed.

Morning was a rush of overnight oatmeal, apples cut into slices (by Mike of course), and coffees/teas being brewed by dancers in various states of dress. Fandango apparently liked early mornings, the class they were to attend being set at seven. Anyone who arrived late would be forced to stay late and go through a thirty-minute grueling workout, which was motivation enough, but they would also still be expected to show up to the afternoon or evening practices and conditioning sessions. It was more strict than New York, but that was why Fandango's students were some of the best in the world. 

Mike lugged his pre-packed bag from under his bed and slipped into his sandals. He would change into the proper shoes once he was there and then warm up. His early morning run and stretch would have to be moved to the afternoon while in California. Getting up earlier was never something he could really accomplish. Not without turning into the nasty monster he was when he didn't get enough sleep. 

Ty tossed him an apple baggie and a cup of oatmeal as he hurried past, everyone else on their team shuffling out the door already. Mike popped open his vitamins and dropped them into a baggie, tossing it into his gym bag along with some waters and a snack for later. He hurried for the door before remembering his phone was charging on the counter.

“Mizzy! You're going to be late!” He briefly flashed back to his days in high school where his mother would say the same thing to him every morning. He snatched up his phone and hurried past Ty, crunching into an apple slice and booking it down the steps and onto the sidewalk. 

The class was just finishing their warm-ups when Mike stumbled in, tired greetings filling the room as he waved and threw his bag against the wall. His oatmeal was polished off on the way over since he knew he wouldn't have time once he entered the room, but he stuffed a few remaining apple slices in his mouth and joined Ty in their stretches. They barely made it before the clock hit seven, and they were going to be horribly stiff and sore later because there was no way they would have time for a proper warm-up before class started.

“I blame you. I could have been on time, making my way around the room and getting a few numbers.” Mike swallowed his food and glared at Ty.

“You could have just left. I was right behind you.” Ty laughed, the instructor greeting the students with a far too excited call that Mike grumbled at.

“Mornings aren't your friend, are they?” Mike stretched his hamstrings and narrowed his eyes.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” Someone near them whistled, Ty's brow raising.

“Grouchy Mike is rude. I like him.” He barely resisted the urge to flip him off, instead going for a stiff kick in the leg. Ty only laughed, music effectively cutting off anything either of them could say. The class was in session.

By the end of the morning, Mike was in a far better mood. Dance always did that for him, even without coffee. He was smiling and joking with his friends, though Ty still teased him for being such a grouch in the morning and saying he was going to wake Mike up earlier than needed because he liked the gruff retorts Mike could barely remember later in the day. The class broke up for lunch, some familiar faces joining Mike, Ty, and Summer.

“You guys hungry?” Tyler beamed at the girl with blue hair, nudging Mike when he tried to turn away. Right. Get along. Just ignore their stupid teasing. 

“Starved. Sandwiches?” One of the guys wrinkled his nose and shook his head. 

“Pizza, man. You gotta learn to eat like a Cali dancer.” Pizza? Was this guy serious? Mike looked him head to toe and snorted softly. There was no way this guy ate that much pizza.

“Something funny there, Goody?” Though he was clearly teasing, there was an edge to his voice. Mike cleared his throat, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and gestured to the guy with his water bottle.

“I just don't believe you eat that much pizza.” The challenging expression melted into a curious one, lips tilting into a smirk. Mike crunched a carrot from another baggie and scanned the room for Lexi and Mella.

“I'll be taking that as a compliment, Goody.” Mike ignored the wink he was offered and stuck out his hand. The guy shook it with raised brows. He seemed surprised. 

“It's 'Mike'. And I think we're ready to go now.” Mella and Lexi were finally heading towards them, bags swinging and heads back in laughter.

“I know. I'm Seth, by the way. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Goody Mike.” 

That night, he sighed into his bath and turned his music up loud. Hopefully this time they would know not to bother him. The day was long and he was worn out. His body hurt, his head hurt, and he was irritable from the early morning, lack of coffee, and the conversations from lunch. He needed Mikey time, lavender-scented bubbles and soothing music to chill out to. 

He prayed people just left him be. Even for just twenty minutes.

His prayers were not answered.

“Hey, Mike. Aw, look at you.” Ty sat on the toilet seat and scooped up some bubbles just like the day before, grinning when Mike turned to glare at him. He should have known Ty wouldn't take the hints and just stay away. He never did before.

“I just wanted to let you know I'm going out. Well, actually, most of us are. Mella is staying in.” He closed his eyes again and hummed along to the music. Ty probably hoped he would offer to come along, but he was just too tired. He nearly fell asleep on the couch after dinner.

Besides, lunch was enough socializing for him.

“How do you guys do it? Do you take drugs?” Ty laughed, blowing the little cloud of bubbles in his hand at Mike. 

“We're not _old_ like some people. Anyway, enjoy your bath.” Ty disappeared through the door, whoops sounding on the other side a few minutes later and then silence once more. He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. He just couldn't imagine showing up to class hungover and exhausted. Despite what Ty always said, he wasn't really that much older than Ty or Dream or Summer. He wasn't nearly natural at dancing as they were, though, and that meant he couldn't afford to screw around. 

Plus, he just didn't have that party spirit some people did. He preferred staying in with some television and snacking on grapes or carrots to loud music and sweaty bodies he didn't know touching him. He went out once or twice when he was in college, and it wasn't what he expected it to be. And the hangover the next day ruined any fun he might have had the day before.

Once his bath was finished, his fingers perfectly pruney and his eyes heavy, he wrapped a towel around his waist and shuffled through the quiet room towards his bed. The television was on, some show with girls shouting at each other and glasses smashing on the floor playing, and a blonde head was laughing along with it. When he reached his door, a voice spoke behind him.

“I thought you went out with everyone.” He turned back and shrugged.

“Not my thing, really. I'm just going to bed.” Her eyes noticeably trailed down his bare torso, reminding him he was kind of almost naked. Shit, he wasn't quite yet used to living with people; especially women. Like good friends do, they both pretended he wasn't practically naked in the middle of the night. Shiny from the oils in his bath. They also pretended she didn't just check him out while he stood there in a towel. Shivering now because it was chilly. 

“Oh. Night, Mike.” He waved, tried to offer his best smile, and pushed into his room for the night. This place was probably going to kill him, but he was willing to go through hell and back for the chance to chase his dreams.

A week passed before he could even blink (which he rarely had time for between all the classes and trying to recover from them), his muscles finally getting in the groove of this stupid routine. Ty and Summer were helping him periodically, so he damn well better have it down by now. 

Their instructor, a no-nonsense woman named Stephanie, broke them into groups to practice the choreography. Then they would all take turns performing it together before being dismissed for the weekend. Thankfully, Fandango believed in a weekend of rest, no classes scheduled for Saturday or Sunday. If Mike had to go to one more grueling conditioning class, his arm might fall off. 

His group consisted of himself, Seth, and a girl named Maryse. She had a thick French accent Mike had a little trouble understanding for the first ten minutes of their conversation, but now they were all laughing and fumbling through the choreography.

Maryse was an excellent dancer – elegant, sexy, and overflowing with confidence – while Seth and Mike were both clearly the weak links of the class. Seth was athletic, Mike wouldn't take that from him, but he seemed almost awkward while going through the moves. Finally, there was someone who wasn't hopping out of the womb with dancer's feet. Someone who wasn't a natural.

“If you put your weight into your heel instead of your toes, you'll have more stability.” He blinked at Maryse. The way she spoke was really cute, though her face looked like she would punch someone if they commented on it. So, he simply followed her advice, finding the move a lot easier with the shift in his weight. Nearly two decades of dance and he still struggled with dancer basics. Like weight distribution. 

“Okay, gather up!” The performers sat down in their groups, ears pricked for who would be tasked with leading the way. Naturally, it was Ty's group – consisting of him, a girl with fiery red hair, and Dream – called to demonstrate the choreography.

And, naturally, they were damn good. The red-haired chick was especially excellent, giving the song an edge that didn't look forced or even weird next to Ty and Dream. It only added flavor to a routine they were all probably tired of. Nattie's team was really something.

Stephanie ran through the groups in quick succession, calling up Mike's group last. With a deep breath, he followed them to the center of the room, already losing himself in the performance. Not worrying about everyone watching him. Not wondering if they would stack up to the previous demonstrations. Just feeling the moves and following Maryse's advice each time he needed to shift his stance. Hopefully, Seth did the same.

Once they were done, everyone receiving criticism and praise from Stephanie, they broke off and gathered up their belongings. Ty's were next to his, so while he was couched down by his bag looking for his Kind bar, Ty kicked him in the ass and whistled. 

“You guys all looked hot up there. I think the blonde likes you.” Maybe in Ty's rose-colored world. But Mike didn't see it. Then again, he didn't always see it when he was in dance mode. And these days, he was always in dance mode; even when he wasn't on the dance floor.

“Sure. Are we grabbing lunch with them again?” They both stood and turned towards the other students, the lines drawn by Nattie and Lana already melted away. They looked like one team, which was all they could ask for when it came to dance.

“Come on, Mikey! I'm serious!” And he didn't doubt that. At all. Ty was on this mission to get Mike laid or something, and while he appreciated the concern, he was pretty sure he was clear about his priorities right now. And sleeping with people was not up there. Even if they had sexy accents and looked like that woman. 

Hot damn Mike a few years ago would probably have been slapped by her. Multiple times. And loved it. But no more. Not until he could say his career was set. 

“Oh, I know. But you know how I feel about that right now. Can we please go get lunch? I'm starving.” They ended up just hanging with Carmella and Summer at a vegan shop near their dormitory. The conversation rarely turned to actual work, but it didn't brush anything dealing with him and romance, so that was a win.

And the flirting was to a minimum, which was Mike's kind of lunch.

“You're getting a what to do what?” Ty had a cup of frozen yogurt he was picking at while they strolled down the sidewalk, enjoying a bit of their free time and sunshine. Mike rolled his eyes and dipped a carrot stick in Ty's yogurt. It was quickly discarded in disgust, Ty glaring at him for messing with his treat.

“Don't act like you don't know what a personal trainer is.” They stopped to let a gaggle of girls exit a shop, Ty raising a brow at him.

“Well, duh. I just mean why do you need one? You're already in great shape. Hot as fuck. I'd definitely swipe right on your shirtless pic. So, what's the deal?” Maybe it was a little silly for him to get a personal trainer, but this was a crucial time for him. His entire future could be riding on how this festival went for him, and there was no way he was not going to do everything in his power to look his best. Even if it meant pushing his body to the absolute limit in the gym and on the floor. 

“I need to look fantastic at this festival. I know I'm in good shape, but I want to be in _great_ shape. Besides, I have a friend who lives out here and he's hooked me up with a great deal. So, it would be rude to refuse.” There was concern on Ty's face, the emotion so genuine Mike nearly staggered back. It was rare for them to be so serious with each other, and when it happened it always surprised him.

“Just be careful, okay?” He felt like Ty was always telling him to be careful. Shouldn't he be saying that to his friend? The one going out to bars and clubs all hours of the night? Mike smiled, taking the empty froyo cup and tossing it out.

“I always am, Breezy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo! Second chapter is a go!
> 
> So, fun fact. I came up with this idea when I remembered Miz danced on 'Lopez Tonight'. Seriously.
> 
> Also, I am not a dancer or a personal trainer. The next chapter will mention schedules and training programs, neither of which I am very knowledgeable in. Just take this as me making a few...artistic liberties with my writing. If you _are_ someone who knows a thing or two about training dancers, or about what a dancing schedule would look like, well, I apologize in advance. 
> 
> Rose x


	3. Boys Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _”Try, try, try to follow the rules_
> 
> _I'll break every one of them with boys like you._
> 
> _My oh my, doing what I always do._
> 
> _Yeah I'm crossing every line to get to boys like you._
> 
> _Boys like you, you, tripping, freaking falling over boys like you....”_
> 
> "Boys Like You" by Who is Fancy ft Ariana Grande and Meghan Trainor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All editing is mine and is being done pretty late. So forgive me for any errors.

“And you're sure this trainer is the best?” Mike turned into the parking lot, already mourning his lost hour of sleep on one of his days free from dancing or conditioning, and finished off his protein shake. His childhood friend, John Morrison, chuckled through the speakers.

It might seem weird a guy from Ohio who now lived in New York was friends with a guy born and raised in Southern California, but for six years of his childhood, Morrison was his neighbor and his best friend. They went to school together, they spent summer vacations together; it was safe to say they did everything together. Somehow, they never lost touch, and that friendship still lived on. Sure, they weren't as close as he and Ty were now – time could do that – but this guy was all he had when his parents were fighting constantly and kids were cruel to him for loving school. They were like brothers; they didn't need to live by each other to share a deep bond. 

John expressed increasing excitement as the days passed between Mike announcing he was going to California for a music and dance festival, and landing at LAX. They made promises to hang out whenever their schedules allowed, talked about different things in LA and the surrounding area Mike wanted to check out, and he sussed out any dance studios he could pop into for a bit of freestyle dance with people who wouldn't be judging him. Now that he was in LA, though, John was overflowing with anticipation, and Mike couldn't help but feel the same. The last time they saw each other face-to-face was...probably when he first started attending Lana's academy.

John flew out to celebrate with him and stayed for three days, the two of them running all over the town making it their own. Now he could repay the favor here in the city of angels. 

But, first, he had to get through this session with a personal trainer John promised was great. He was assured when he brought it up a month ago, planning out what he was going to do in LA, but he still wasn't so sure. He never had one before; in fact, he rarely went to the gym. He worked out at home or on the dance floor. Machines kind of scared him (as did the muscle heads using them), and the treadmill was probably the worst machine created. 

“The best money could buy, Mikey. Of course, since I referred you, it's not going to cost an arm and a leg. He's cutting you a pretty good deal, apparently. I can't say how much he normally charges clients, but I promise he's a legit guy.” Mike checked his reflection in the mirror, relieved John was able to work that out for him. He had money, but he figured good personal trainers in LA went way past his budget. “And, not only is he one of the best trainers in L.A., but he's also a really cool guy. You'll really like working with him.” He had no choice but to trust his friend's judgment, so with a final swallow of his water, he thanked John again and turned off the car.

He wondered what would be in store for him. He figured dancers were pretty common in LA and that there would be a tried and true plan for them. Hopefully, something challenging and not just him working on a treadmill. _Please_ no treadmills. Or the elliptical. 

He stepped through the glass door of _Briley's Body Shop_ and smiled at the receptionist. There were machines of all kinds scattered around the room, and there towards the back was a square of open floor sectioned off with indoor fencing and a large clock on the wall with bright red numbers. It wasn't crowded – in fact, there was only one other person there – but that wasn't all that surprising considering it was just shy of seven in the morning. He figured most people would be off to work around this time. 

“Hi! Welcome to _Briley's_. My name is Kelly. How can we help you today?” Mike nodded to the smiling girl behind the desk and shuffled over, stashing his keys in his gym bag and offering a grin of his own. 

“I'm Mike. Um, Mike Mizanin. My friend said he recommended me to one of the trainers here. Um...hang on. I can't remember-” The girl was already clicking away on her keyboard and then sliding back in her office chair to knock on a door. When she returned, she was smiling still and offering a small towel.

“Yes, you're on the schedule today. He will be with you in a moment, Mister Mizanin.” He stepped aside as a girl in a hot pink tracksuit pushed into the gym, calling a greeting to Kelly with a squeal. His ear rang and his head ached at the temples. Hopefully, they wouldn't be anywhere near her while working out because he did not want to have his head throbbing while his muscles burned. And without any coffee or dance, he was in no mood to deal with people and have a headache.

He fished out his phone and opened his text messages. The team knew he was having a training session today, but it was still best to remind them. Especially Ty, who liked to worry over him as if he were a child.

“Mike?” He finished off the text to Ty and glanced up, doing a double-take before quickly stuffing his phone...somewhere.

No. _No._

Please tell him this guy – no, _man_ \- wasn't going to be his trainer. Please. This was just not fair. How could John do this to him? Maybe his friend figured as dedicated and focused as Mike was, he wouldn't care about working with someone who looked like _that._ Maybe, since his friend was exclusively into women, he didn't realize Mike might be interested in someone like him. Whatever the reason, this was not going to go well. Because in all his years of being surrounded by gorgeous, sexy, limber people, he never ran into someone quite so...enticing. 

Part of him hoped dearly he was indeed lucky enough to get to work with this Grecian god parading around on Earth as a freaking gym trainer. Part of him – the more sensible self-preserving part - knew working with someone so beautiful would do nothing good for him. Distraction was written all over this square-jawed, blue-eyed, _smiling_ man. He blinked out of his thoughts, realizing there was a hand offered out to him. For him to shake.

Oh no. This was just...this was not going to work.

“Um, sorry. Mhm. Yeah. I'm Mike.” They shook hands and oh _wow_. He had a strong handshake, warm soft hands, and someone better pray for him because he was very close to melting onto the floor. He didn't exactly have a checklist of characteristics he preferred when it came to looks; it was more of a vague idea of what he liked and didn't. But if he _did_ have a checklist, this guy would definitely check every single box. And maybe add a few to the bottom. 

How was he supposed to work out with this guy?? 

“Cool. I think you kinda blanked out on me for a second there, so I'll introduce myself again. I'm Dolph.” Oh, great. This guy just saw him short-circuit in the middle of the gym at seven freaking o'clock on a Tuesday morning. Could he be any more embarrassing? Could he make a worse impression?

The only up-side to this exchange was that he now knew the guy didn't have a sexy name to go along with those looks of his. Not that it, like, mattered because he was _not_ going there. Nope. If he had a name like... 'Nick' or something, then he would be screwed. But this was good. He was only in town until the festival ended, and he wasn't looking for anything that would distract him from his dream. From bettering himself and taking his career to the top.

Morrison would be getting some _words_ , though. Because this was not cool.

“Nice to meet you.” How did he manage to sound so normal? So relaxed? His entire being was stricken. His foundation shifted under his feet. Dolph nodded, his smile splitting to reveal sparkling white teeth.

“Same. Now, we'll take a tour of the place first. Give you a feel of everything. Then you can put your stuff away in the locker room and we can discuss your goals, time-frames, and other things like that. Afterward, we'll do the assessment.” Mike swallowed, only able to manage a nod and what was hopefully a convincing smile.

They went around the quiet gym, Dolph going over different sections and the machines they would most likely be working with. Since Mike was a dancer and wanted to stay lean rather than put on bulky muscle, they were going to do something called 'cardio-weight circuit training', using low weights at high repetitions. He didn't like the sound of 'cardio-weight circuit training', casting a glance over to the treadmills as they passed. 

“What's that marked off place?” Dolph was in the middle of explaining the cooperation of muscles in compound something others to burn fat or something like that but stopped and glanced over to the fenced-off area with the timer. Oops. Maybe he should be listening to these explanations. Or at least pretend he was.

“Oh, that is for the HIIT people. You know- High Intensity Interval Training. They needed some space and so we had it built in last year. If you want, we can add that to your training. HIIT twice a week.” He waggled his eyebrows, really too charming for so early in the morning. Mike swallowed down his nerves and managed a chuckle that sounded strained even to him. They were finally at the locker rooms, Dolph flipping through the clipboard and fishing a pen from thin air. Or, well, it seemed that way.

“Okay, next we'll take a look at the locker room. Pretty basic. I'm sure you've seen plenty like them in New York. Go ahead. I'll be in with you in a minute.” He started writing down something, brows furrowing and lips pouting. Probably a good time to get away from him, then. Mike adjusted his bag and stepped into the locker room. 

Four long benches took up most of the space, lockers lined along the walls and painted a nice shade of blue. Dark. A shade he liked to wear whenever he dressed up. His bag thumped against the smooth wood bench and he turned to study the small lockers. There wasn't much room for his bag in there, but he could probably ball it up once he took his water bottles and snacks out. He could make it work.

The showers were in separate stalls and seemed really clean. He was going to have to bring a towel and soaps if he wanted to use them, though. There probably wouldn't be time for that because of his schedule, but it never hurt to be prepared. 

“Okay, Mister Mizanin-” Mike laughed and shook his head. No one ever called him 'Mister Mizanin'. Maybe 'Mister Miz' once, but it was a small child. He was certainly not calling this guy 'Mister Ziggler', which was a ridiculous name and had him wondering if maybe it was fake or something. Not that people did things like that outside comics and movies about superheroes. But it was a funny thought nonetheless.

“'Mike' is fine. And actually, quick question. How did you know I was in from New York?” Dolph checked something on the clipboard and glanced up with a raised brow.

“Your buddy who referred you to me? He happens to be a friend of mine too. We room together. He told me a little bit about you and what you do so I could put something together. I've never really worked with a male dancer before, but I figure it isn't too different to the female ones.” Mike shrugged and sat on a bench, Dolph on the one across from him.

“I imagine you probably have a lot of female clients.” That raised brow was now complemented by a smirk.

“Yeah? How you figure?” As he scrambled for a response, Dolph chuckled and went back to his clipboard. “I was kidding. Many assume I have a long list of female clients because I'm a good-looking guy or something, but actually it's about equal.”

Mike dug into his bag for a water bottle – iced overnight so it would be nice and thawed but still frosty for after the workout – and gestured to the clipboard his trainer kept checking over and writing on. Better get on with this so he could get out of there and try not to think about the too-gorgeous-for-his-own-good California man with stars for eyes. Like, seriously? Who looked like him in real life? Someone like him would do so well on the silver screen. He may not have a lot of female clients, but Mike would wager his savings that 90% of the women who entered the gym _wished_ he was their trainer.

And could he blame them? Nope.

“What's that for?” Dolph scribbled something else and clicked his pen. There was something so sexy and distracting about the tilted grin he offered, so Mike busied himself with picking at his bag, pretending to be fixated on the pocket zipper. Oh, the teasing he would get if Ty was there.

“I'm making some notes for you, and sort of multi-tasking. I have a packed schedule today...not that I won't be one hundred percent focused. I've learned to manage. Now, first, let's talk about your schedule. You're here for the spring music festival, correct?” Mike nodded, trying to resist the urge to worry his lip with his teeth. He already spazzed out on him the first five seconds they met. He could do without embarrassing himself any further. Because he was going to go through with this. Who knew if John could strike another deal with someone else? And how was he to explain the reason why he couldn't work with Dolph?

_”Hey, sorry I can't train with you. I'm too busy imagining you naked in my bed to focus on three sets of eight crunches.”_ Because that would go over so well. No, he was going to fight this. Work through it and beat this stupid flutter in his chest down. 

For dance. For his career. For his future. He could resist the temptation. If he could pass on a double chocolate cake for his birthday, he could keep himself in check around this man. Right?

“Yep. So that's, what, six months from now?” Dolph hummed and wrote something down. How could someone wearing a faded AC/DC tank and basketball shorts make Mike feel like he was both drowning and floating above the clouds? And when was he so...cliche? 

“That's plenty of time. I work with plenty of clients who have a lot less time and have less to work with. You're already in great shape, so this should be a piece of cake. How often are practices and conditioning?” He stopped writing, glancing over at him. Mike bit his tongue and counted to ten in his head. For dance. For dance... “I assume you do conditioning?” Not seeing a need to speak yet, he nodded, fiddling with the water freezing his hands. His fingers were starting to tingle. Why was he acting like a teenage girl with a crush on the quarterback of their football team? They were adults for crying out loud! He was never this bad with people he found attractive. 

He was the guy who hit on people left and right until someone either smacked him or agreed to make out with him. Girls at his high school hated him. Dudes in college couldn't stand having him around when they went out. 

He knew the answer, though. Dolph looked like the guy girls fainted in front of just by simply smiling. He was the guy people wrote songs about – sappy love songs that rhymed too much and torn up tracks about pretty boys who broke too many hearts. 

For a lot of his life, and especially now that he was a big dancer in New York, he was surrounded by beautiful people. So why this one was throwing him off he wasn't really sure. But he could fight through it. If Mike was anything, it was stubborn. And determined. No blue-eyed anyone was going to get in the way. No matter how badly he might want to...

Stop. Focus. Dolph was writing something, the silence dragging on save for the gentle glide of the pen and the shifting of paper. He cleared his throat.

“My schedule is going to be pretty full most weeks. We do morning stretching and classes four days a week. We also have evening classes throughout the week.” He liked having this day free, except that he was at the gym instead of sleeping. “Our conditioning is usually in the afternoons, maybe three days a week? That's the general layout. Of course, as the festival approaches, things will be a bit different.” Eyes blinked at him, the man tilting his head slightly.

“Why do you want a trainer exactly? I mean, it sounds like you're getting plenty of work on your own. And you do need to give your body time to heal and rest. Adding a training plan on top of what you're already doing could lead to injuries.” Morrison and Breeze asked him the same thing, actually, and it was a valid concern. But he couldn't go to the festival without knowing he put his best effort forward. He wanted to look and feel his absolute best, and if that meant hiring a trainer, then so be it.

“This festival is a big deal to me. It could be the thing that launches my career. I just have to look my absolute best. I don't really need a full program or anything, but I'm not all that knowledgeable when it comes to the gym. My main source of exercise comes from dance. So, Morrison suggested getting a trainer while I'm out here to help me out.” Dolph seemed to have that 'aha' moment, leaning back and writing on his board again. 

“I can work with that. But don't forget recovery and resting. No sneaking extra practices or sessions in the gym. The best in any field know when to step back and relax. Even if it's yoga on the beach. Watching something on TV. Anything that allows your body to rest.” Mike knew a thing or two about resting. And about working too hard – pushing himself to self-destruction – so he nodded sagely and forced himself to take that instruction to heart. No extra practice. Listen to the trainer. It's what you're paying him for! 

“Now, what are your goals? Besides getting in the best shape possible for the festival.” He made a mental note to block off time on Sundays to hit the beach for some yoga and to stock up on his favorite bubble bath soap. When he got back to the apartment dorms, he would do a little research on different recovery techniques. 

Maybe he could even get a massage with Mella or Ty.

“I definitely just want to tone. Keep working on my stamina and endurance. Core work.” More notes. More humming. He forgot how boring these things could be. He came to workout, not chit-chat and pretend he wasn't staring at the sharp jawline.

“Okay, so I want to see you on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Sundays for recovery. We'll do light cardio and footwork with the treadmills and then get you into a shorter version of that circuit I was talking about before. Light weights and high repetitions are perfect for toning. I generally work in the mornings, but my schedule is pretty flexible.” Working in L.A., Mike wasn't surprised. People had auditions and classes to attend, filming schedules to keep, and shows to perform at. He was sure Dolph was used to people having all sorts of scheduling requests.

“Tuesdays I have free, so that's perfect for me. Thursdays are practice and stretching. Morning stretch and afternoon class. Maybe we could do Friday instead? We don't have a morning class on Fridays.” Dolph made more notes and smiled.

“Perfect.” He flicked his wrist to check the time. “Well, let's get some work done, then. You seem to have come ready to sweat.” 

Half an hour later and Mike was ready to collapse on the ground. Not that Dolph was going to let him. The treadmill portion was interesting and different, alternating between steep incline/low speed and normal incline/medium speed with footwork drills that nearly landed Mike in the hospital. Dolph's laughter, louder than he expected, had him blushing but hiding a smile. It was an infectious kind of laugh most people were embarrassed by, but the man didn't seem to care if it was too loud or if anyone was giving him odd looks. 

Mike aspired to be that confident and carefree one day. 

After the treadmills, Dolph walked him through the machines they would be using. The weight was really light, but after the second circuit, his arms and back were on fire. This was exactly what he needed. He was sweating, his muscles were burning, and he felt really good. See? He made the right decision hiring this guy.

Then, of course, it was time for core work. Dancers had to have strong abdominal muscles for a variety of reasons, so one would think Mike's core would be made of steel. If steel was soft and flabby, well, then sure! He knew it was one of his weak points, but if he was going to make it as a dancer, he needed to get that in shape as well. And this was why he was nearly ready to drop to the floor. Core work on top of cardio and weight training was draining his energy stores. Thankfully, there were no classes for the day.

“Come on, Mizanin! We got one last set before you can call it quits. I know teen girls who can blow through this no problem. Up! Up! Up!” He groaned and rolled to his feet, glaring when Dolph offered two thumbs up. His trainer was apparently in fantastic shape himself, keeping up with Mike throughout the whole session. And watching him demonstrate the core exercises was really not good for his sanity. He could just picture the six or eight pack abs underneath that thin tank.

“Okay, but can I kill you after this?” He finished off his second bottle of water and tossed it at the grinning blonde.

“If you have the energy to kill, I will put you through another circuit. Get to it.” 

His body ached in the best way, sweat pouring down his neck and back. He was going to need to buy more shirts because he was going through them faster than he was able to get them washed and dried for class. The music cut off and the class dropped to the floor with a groan. As Dolph predicted, adding gym sessions with his conditioning and practices was killing his body, but he noticed how lean he looked in the mirror while getting dressed for class, so he wasn't regretting it.

Besides, he made sure to do the salt soaks and followed his diet to the letter. Tyler would scrunch up his nose at Mike's chicken salad, Mella trying to tempt him into sharing a mini cake on her birthday while he was relaxing on the couch, but he didn't budge. He was looking forward to Sunday more than he normally did because he was going to be joined by his gorgeous trainer on the beach bright and early for yoga and meditation. 

“Next week will be your assessment. There won't be any cuts made, but it will determine which class you get put in for the remainder of your stay here, so you'll want to do well. Get plenty of rest before tomorrow. We'll be running through this choreography and start a new one. Dismissed.” Fandango didn't come to any of the practices after the first, but Mike figured it was because he was busy with the Master Class he was working with. He figured moving up would mean more work with their teacher. 

“You don't have a training session today, right?” Mike finished his stretching and flopped back onto the floor, eyes closed and muscles burning.

“No. That's tomorrow.” He wondered if Dolph would have his hair down and curly this time, or if it would be pulled up in that ridiculous man bun thing. Would he be wearing some neon pink shirt with Britney Spears lyrics in electric blue print, or a vintage band tank that showed off those _arms_ of his? He shook off his thoughts and gathered his bag and sweats along with Ty. Dream, Mella, and Lexi were already gone. 

“Are you ever going to tell me about this trainer? I've been waiting for you to give me the deets for ages!” The air was cool against his skin, people dressed in shorts but carrying sweatshirts around in case the sun disappeared. The apartment was only a short ten-minute walk, so they started down the sidewalk, stopping at a vendor for some ice cream. Well, ice cream for Ty.

“What are you waiting for exactly?” Ty huffed and waved his hand around.

“Anything about them! Mostly what you think of them, though. I haven't seen someone so excited to go to the _gym_ ever. And my brother is a major gym rat.” Of course, Tyler caught on. He had some freaky connection with Mike or something. 

“There isn't really anything to tell, Ty. He's-” 

“A _he!_ Called it.” Mike rolled his eyes.

“He's just a typical Cali boy who works with celebs. Thinks he's some big shot because of it.” It was a total lie, but if he told the truth, Tyler would know in ten seconds Mike had a crush on the poor trainer. He just had to hope it wasn't stupidly obvious to Dolph himself. Boy, would that be humiliating. 

“Oh, come off it. You're so full of shit. Whatever. What does he look like?” Mike hummed.

“Actually, you two look a bit alike. Almost like he could be your long lost brother.” And he wasn't lying. But while Tyler did remind him of Dolph sometimes – especially when he tilted his head just right – Dolph didn't really remind him of Breezy. Not enough to make him unattractive to Mike, anyway. 

Honestly, he would rather Dolph remind him of someone he would never want to have sex with. It would make his life a lot easier. 

“Oooo, so he is hot, then?” Mike huffed and elbowed his friend.

“You do know I have never found you to be attractive, right? That goes for any of your doppelgangers too.” He was the worst liar in the world. Tyler laughed.

“Ouch. But you know I can always sense when someone is pining. And I can also always tell when you're lying. You're 0 for 2, Mikey Mike. When do I get to see him? I mean, you've never really liked anyone in the time I've known you. This is exciting! I wanna see who's finally called Mikey's attention from dance. Maybe shake his hand. Raise a glass.” They pushed into the apartment and waved to the others, who were lounging around and looking nearly ready to pass out.

“There's nothing to see, Ty. I'm not into anyone.” Lexi sat up and nodded solemnly.

“Unless their name is 'dance', Mike couldn't care less.” Mella poked at her low cal ice cream and watched them. Dream snorted and shook his head.

“I don't know how he does it. The whole...no relationships or sex thing.” Summer sipped on her water and studied him.

“Are you like...what's the word for someone who doesn't have a desire to be intimate with people?” Okay, this was getting out of hand. He crossed his arms and interrupted whatever Dream was going to say.

“Not that it really matters, but I am not asexual. I'm just... focused on dance right now; on building my career. It's not that I don't have an interest in relationships or sex or intimacy, and I certainly have nothing against it. I just don't have the time or energy to put into those things. Maybe in a few years if I can lock down my career.” Ty chuckled and nudged him.

“Until you walked into that gym and the heavens opened up above Mister Sexy Muscles. Right?” Mike wasn't someone who hit people, but in that moment? He was really close to punching Ty square in the mouth. Just once. Instead, he only flipped him off.

“Let's stop talking about my non-existent love life and move on to something more important. Like who's turn is it to do the dishes.”

He was in his bed, scrolling through Instagram (and trying his hardest not to look up a certain trainer on there) when the door opened and a blonde head poked in. To his surprise, it was Carmella. He sat up and invited her in, shifting his feet so she had room to sit at the end of the bed. She looked around the room as she moved, smiling when she met his eyes. 

“Hey, Mel.” She did a little hop and dropped onto his bed, playing with her hair while the silence dragged on. He cleared his throat. “Did you need something?”

“I just wanted to see if you were okay. After earlier. I know I'm new to the group, but that just seemed kind of uncool. So are you? Okay, I mean.” She had this image, maybe character was more accurate, that she always portrayed. One of a stuck-up blonde girl from Long Island who was far too cool for poor people or whatever, but the longer they all hung out, the more he was seeing she was nothing like that. She was sweet, shy, and full of life. 

She was someone he wanted near him all the time because she would always sprinkle sunshine on your day.

“Yeah. I'm used to their stupid teasing. Ty's just been on my nerves more than usual lately. Not to mention the stress of this festival and Fandango's school. But everything's fine with me.” She nodded, though she still fiddled with her hair. He sensed something was on her mind, so he nudged her arm.

“Are _you_ okay, Mella?” She glanced around and then ducked her head. Rubbing her hand up her arm, she stared at the floor for a few seconds before finally meeting his eyes.

“Have you ever liked someone you weren't sure you could ever have? For one reason or another?” It might surprise Ty and the others, but Mike did have relationships before. He had crushes – celebrity and otherwise – and _was_ sexually attracted to people. So he nodded. Because there were a couple times he had his heart set on someone and they just didn't feel that way about him. 

“I don't know what to do, you know? Like, I'm ninety percent sure I have no chance with him - that he isn't into me like that - but I can't stop thinking about him in that way.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and shuffled closer, testing the waters. Some people wanted comfort in the form of a hug and a shoulder to lean on. Others preferred an ear and reassurance, but no actual contact. If it were Ty or Lexi sitting there, he wouldn't hesitate to pull them in and listen to their troubles, but Carmella was still so new. He didn't know her like that. So, he waited for her to do something; maybe glare at him or shift away. Instead, she dropped her hands in her lap and turned these big sad brown eyes on him. 

When he tentatively spread his arm out, offering her his physical comfort if she so desired it, she sniffed and tucked into his side. Arms wrapped around him and she giggled through her sniffling and crying. He brought his own arm back, hugging her gently into his side and closing his eyes. When it came to comforting crying girls, he was never really any good at it. He still wasn't, so they sat in silence while he tried to think of something to say. Something that she would want to hear – needed to hear – and that would make her feel better. Even if only for a moment.

Nothing poetic came to mind, nor anything earth-shattering, so he just started speaking.

“And you're really sure? Have they said something along the lines of _'I see you like a little sister'?_ Or maybe, _'You remind me of my mother.'?_ ” His attempt at making her laugh or smile succeeded, moving her head from where it was resting on his shoulder to look at him, her laugh soft in the quiet room.

“I'm pretty sure I'm not his type, if you get what I mean.” It took him a second to understand the implication in her voice, but once he did he hugged her closer. Nothing could be worse than having all these feelings for someone and realizing there was absolutely zero chance. 

“I just wish I could stop thinking about him in that way. That's the hardest part for me. Like, we could be good friends, but I'm afraid of doing something stupid and making things awkward.” He never really had to deal with befriending a person he was attracted to who didn't like him in that way. Usually, if that happened, he would essentially run for the hills. Distance himself from whoever it was.

“Well, I always bury myself in dance and getting in shape when I don't want to think about something. I mean, there isn't much time to think about pretty faces when you're trying to learn a new routine or you're just too exhausted." And usually that worked. Which was good to know because Dolph was going to be a difficult one for him. "Others go out and try to find someone new. Someone distracting. Or they drink themselves into comas. I never found those tactics to be helpful to those who tried.”

“Yeah.” His words didn't seem to help any, and the perfect idea came to him while he was struggling for something new to say. The perfect way to get her mind off of whoever it is.

“How about a show?” At her deadpanned expression, he bounced on the bed, trying to show he was serious about this. Her eyes narrowed. “I'm serious!”

“Oh, no. That's not necessary. I'm sure you were going to bed, Mike. It's okay. I guess I just wanted someone to listen, you know? And of everyone here, you seem the least likely to try and drag me out to do random hookups.” He snorted and pulled her to her feet.

“Come on. I'm sure there's some trashy show on that we can laugh at and forget about ole whatshisname.” She poked him in the ribs, tickling a laugh out as they made their way back to the living room. Everyone else was out or asleep, so they raided the fridge and found some reality show to watch. She sat close to him, leaning against his arm as the show went off and a new one came to life on the screen. Her hand rested on his chest and she sounded sleepy when she commented about someone's hair on the show, Mike popping another grape in his mouth with a laugh. 

It was one of the nicer evenings he had in a long time. 

The sun was just barely above the waves when he arrived for his yoga session, horribly exhausted but at the same time itching to get to work. It was one of the few times in his life he was not throwing a fit about being awake before ten on a Sunday. The beach was empty, the sand was cool and soft, and the air was crisp with the light chill of dawn. 

The things he was willing to do for a man far too good looking and too charming to handle at any hour. At any level of wakefulness. Wait, no, for _dance_.

“I see you know how to be on time. Good. I like punctuality.” A thrill shot up his spine at the added rough texture to that voice floating above the crashing waves and birds calling out to each other. He turned to find Dolph making his way down the sand towards where Mike was looking out over the water, mats on his back and hair pulled up out of his face. The rising sun somehow softened his features, with some help from facial hair that wasn't there Friday morning, and when he was closer Mike noticed he was carrying two bottles.

“Please tell one of those is for me, and that it's coffee.” Dolph laughed, dropping the mats on the sand and handing over one of the bottles, hot to the touch. Mike groaned and popped the lid, inhaling the soothing scent of brewed coffee. That's it. He was officially in love. Whether it was directed at the coffee or Dolph, well, he couldn't be sure of anything at this hour.

“I don't know how you take your coffee, so it's just black. I brought some creams and sugars if you want to go over to my car and get them. We'll begin in a few minutes.” With a brief smile, Dolph trudged down to the water, sipping his drink as he went. Mike watched for a few seconds too long before hurrying over to the car parked next to the one the crew was renting for their stay in California. No one else was going out until way later, and when he asked for it and told them the time he was heading to the beach, they all looked at him like he lost his mind. 

Except for Ty, who muttered something about hot trainers under his breath.

He poured a couple French Vanilla creams in his coffee, perking up when he noticed Dolph brought food too. This man was far too perfect. Too wonderful. Mike was in serious danger here. He swept his thoughts away and made his way back over to where Dolph was standing, a hand in his pocket and coffee pressed to his lips. He too was watching the sunrise, and when Mike drew closer, he heard humming.

“You like Skid Row?” Dolph jumped and turned back to look at him, cheeks pink and pushing his eyes into slits with the force of his smile. He really needed to stop doing that.

“Love them. I don't usually care for cheesy love songs like that, but you know. Being at the beach so early makes monsters of us all. And it's freaking Sebastian Bach.” Mike snorted, picking up where Dolph left off. There was something...inspiring about the sun on the water, the scent of chocolate and coffee and sea mixing together, the presence of the man beside him. 

“We should probably get to work. Have you ever done yoga before?” Once, and he actually hated it. But he wasn't going to tell Dolph that. Not when he was watching him with those starry eyes over the lid of his cup. So Mike shrugged and turned to look out over the water.

“It's been a while. Good thing I have a teacher with me, right?” Dolph chuckled and led them over to the mats, setting his bottle down and spreading them out over the sand. Mike watched him work, stomach doing a funny dance he tried to drown with coffee. It was too early for his defenses to be up quite yet, so this should be really interesting. Probably actual torture.

“Shoes off. What, were you raised in a barn?” He nearly stumbled into the sand at the sharp reprimand, though there was amusement in sparkling eyes. He tugged off his shoes and stepped onto the mat once more, stretching his shoulders out and scoffing.

“No. But I wasn't raised in a yoga studio either.” The morning passed pleasantly after that. Mike was used to stretching, his body pretty flexible, so he responded well to the yoga. Even the harder poses, ones he had to really breathe through as he held them, only made him feel light and happy. Or, well, that could also be the voice of his instructor and the flashes of a muscular stomach he caught every so often.

Either way, it wasn't nearly as bad as he anticipated. Even the whole cliché 'namaste' and breathing and meditation didn't bother him. In fact, it was kind of nice, sitting there with his eyes closed, listening to the lilting voice against the waves. His body felt properly stretched out, and now he could go back and take a long luxurious nap. Maybe eat some yogurt and granola. Watch a little football.

He helped Dolph clear up the mats and trudged with him up to the vehicles. He remembered then he saw food in the back of Dolph's car and wondered if he would be offered any. His stomach grumbled, betraying his hunger, and made Dolph snicker.

“Hungry?” Naturally, he tried playing it off. But Dolph merely shook his head, smiling, and reached in the back of his car. Mike definitely didn't check him out while doing it, and there was no one there to say otherwise. He accepted the granola bar and apple with and rough-sounding 'thank you', clearing his throat and repeating it. The trunk slammed closed and Dolph leaned against it, looking around them at the peace that was early morning. A jogger or two was up, but it wasn't yet late enough on a Sunday for anyone to venture out of their homes quite yet.

Well, unless you were Mike. Who was, obviously, an idiot.

“I love coming to the beach. Especially in the morning. Can't really get in the water, but man is it something. That sunshine. The bite in the air. The smell of the sea. Almost makes me want to put up a place on the beach. Live here forever.” He sipped on a water, silent for a moment. Mike could see why, especially when he lived in the city and had to deal with people and traffic and smog. The beach was nice.

“It's something. We don't have anything like this in New York. Closest beach is...it's far. And not nearly as pretty. I think the beaches there are more rocky, actually.” Dolph turned to him, the sunshine doing his already gorgeous face wonders. It was disgusting. But in the best way, of course.

“I've never been to the East Coast, but I've seen pictures. It's nice. And I bet it's still really beautiful at sunrise. The sun bleeding out over the water. Kind of like a Bob Ross painting.” Mike snorted, playing with the water in his hands. He was wasting time, trying to soak in every second he could. Sue him.

“Are you secretly a writer or something?” Dolph nudged him with his shoulder, something warm cracking open in his chest. He really needed to go. Get away from this....this impossible man. “You're a bit soft for a California guy who looks like you do.”

“I always did fancy myself a writer as a kid, and I love reading. I know I look like a meathead - a gym rat - but I'm not really. I just love helping people and happen to do it through working out.” He kicked the ground, tightening the cap on his water bottle. “I also wanted to be a lawyer and a wrestler as a kid, but fitness was where my heart went. Never looked back.”

“Oh, shit. I'm late for my client. Take it easy today, okay? Remember, it's called a _rest_ day. See you Tuesday.” He shoved off the car and slid by, opening the door to the driver's side and starting it up before even closing the door. Mike stood back, soaking in the conversation and sunshine as Dolph pulled away. They waved and then he was gone. At least he had over an hour before he was around anyone again. He could work on tampering down the goofy smile he was wearing.

Despite his best efforts, and the care he took in shutting the door so it didn't make a sound, Ty was there. Smiling at him like an idiot. Mike's good feelings faded and he pushed by Ty with a grunt, seriously hoping he just didn't talk. He wanted to savor the morning with the gorgeous trainer on the beach. Not get interrogated by Ty while he was munching on something that smelled awful.

“So. How was _yoga?_ Did you get stretched out?” They veered into the kitchen, Mike snatching a water bottle out of the fridge and hiding the blush burning across his cheeks. What Ty was implying didn't happen, but that didn't change the fact that he definitely _wanted_ that to happen. Maybe even on that beach. Sand be damned.

“I never really liked yoga, actually. It's just glorified stretching and humming. And, oh, _breathing._ It's all very...spiritual. Don't make it sexual.” Ty pouted at him, but thankfully he let it drop. It was still kind of early. But he could count on Ty grilling him later on in the day. Maybe he would be in a better mood by then and could actually humor his teasing.

“I see pouty grouchy Mike has made his return. Morning, boys.” Lex waved to them as she pulled cereal down, the two of them mumbling their greetings. He was definitely taking a nap after he finished his water. Maybe stalk his trainer on Instagram. He was just tired enough to do something stupid like that.

“He's going to go take a nap. Wake me in time for the game.” No one other than Mike really cared about football, but he let them know on Friday evening that he watched the games on Sunday afternoons and in the evening. Monday was a little harder, but he tried to catch what he could.

Today, however, his team – the Cleveland Browns – was playing, and he never missed a game if he could help it. He paid for the NFL app specifically so he could watch it even if it wasn't playing where he was. New York didn't often play Cleveland games, and he figured California was even less likely. He was not about to sit through a Niners game either.

“Of course. I'm definitely joining in, by the way. Big strong men in skin-tight pants chasing after each other, tackling each other, and fighting over a ball? Sounds like my type of game. And with sexy girls in skimpy outfits on the sidelines, twirling their pom-poms?” Mike rolled his eyes and pushed off the counter. If only he had someone to talk real football with. Not about cute football players and their asses.

He flopped on his bed and flicked through his contacts. Hovered over one for a few seconds. Would it be weird contacting Dolph so soon after seeing him, and without something to do with fitness or nutrition? Were they friends? He probably didn't even like football. Or anything Mike would care about. Not enough to talk about. Though, that little thing about the beach was nice. He was thinking too much, turning the phone over and over in his hands. There was nothing weird. He was friends with his trainers and instructors in New York.

Sure, he wouldn't text them about football, but no one he knew even cared about it anyway. 

Okay, why was he trying to make excuses to himself? There was nothing wrong with texting someone he wanted to be friends with. He could always use more friends; and Dolph said he roomed with Morrison, which meant they were friends too. So, really, they were kind of like...already friends through association. 

He sent a text and rolled away from his phone, intending on taking that nap. Except, then his phone chimed. And no, he did not roll back over so fast he nearly landed on the floor. Because that would be ridiculous of him. To his delight, it was worth it definitely _not_ rolling over onto the floor because Dolph apparently was a massive football fan. There were a couple exclamation points and emojis in response, his smile tilting into goofy territory.

As if he couldn't be more perfect, not only did he like football as much as Mike, he then liked the same freaking _team._ Mike didn't believe in soulmates or fate or things like that, but in the moment someone could easily talk him into it. He tried to remain calm – you know, like an adult – and launched into a conversation about their head coach and their newest quarterback. They seemed to be on the same page about a lot of the grievances that was being a Browns fan, lamenting over years of barely celebrating a victory and the possibility of playoffs and Super Bowls always dashed to dust.

A knock on the door startled him into dropping his phone on his face. Shit, was it really time to get up already? He didn't even nap! His text tone chimed from the bed, twice, while he was up getting changed into his football gear. Ty knocked again, asking if he was awake or trying to get off. Which, no. He was not about to attempt that here. Not with Ty always barging in on people like he owned the place. 

“I'm changing into my jersey, you asshole. Give me a minute.” A laugh, muffled through the door, rang out.

“Why are you such a grouch when you wake up? Maybe you need to get laid more.” He snatched up his phone and yanked the door open, offering the chuckling Ty a glare. This guy was forever on his last nerve. He loved him, but the man worried more than his mother. And teased worse than a brother.

(Thankfully, Mike was an only child.)

“Maybe you need to just mind your own business. You got the snacks ready?” They stepped into the living room area, the television ready for Mike to set up the game and the snacks spread out on the table, Ty jumping on Mike's back and whooping loudly in his ear.

“Yeah, baby! Let's go! Woo hoo! Let's go..” He rolled his eyes and dumped Ty on the couch.

“Browns. We're watching the Browns.” He pulled out his phone to check what Dolph had to say while waiting for the television to load, laughing softly and typing back.

“Oh I know that look. Who is it?” The game came on – or more accurately, the commercials did – and he blinked over at Ty when he flopped down. Look? What look? He didn't have a _look._ And if he did, well, it wasn't because of anyone. Unless he looked annoyed- in that case, it was all Ty.

“Someone who actually understands football. Unlike someone else, I know.” Ty snorted, not at all falling for his diversion tactic. Damn it. 

“Aw, they're perfect for you then. Is he that gorgeous trainer of yours?” The Browns failed to get a first down, Mike swearing under his breath and seeing his aggravation reflected in Dolph's text. Maybe next time they could sit down in the same place and watch a game.

“You've never _seen_ my trainer.” Ty tossed a popcorn kernel at him and kicked him with socked feet. Dream, sitting at the table decisively not watching the game, grumbled with a shake of his head. Mike really needed better friends.

“If he looks anything like me, as you said so yourself, then he's hot. So, hot.” He held up his thumb to count one. “Watches football and apparently actually understands it.” His index finger. Then he waggled his brow at Mike. “Checking those boxes for you, Mizzy?” Mike jumped up as the wide receiver started down the field, dropping back down when he was tackled into the sidelines a moment later, only twenty yards from the endzone. Dolph's text was in all caps and filled with emojis. 

“Wait, I never said I was talking to him about football.” He sent a few 'thumbs up' emojis of his own. “We don't have that sort of relationship. I barely know the guy.” It would probably be more convincing if he stopped smiling like an idiot when his phone went off, or scooping it up hastily before Ty could see who it was, but whatever. Ty should mind his own business.

“Uh-huh. Fine. Don't tell me. I'll figure it out. Maybe I'll follow you to the gym. Check him over myself.” Dream snickered.

“You mean check him _out_ for yourself.” Mike leaped off the couch for the touchdown, Mella and Lexi poking out to see what he was shouting about. When they saw, they both shook their heads and disappeared back inside. No one in the dorm may understand him, but he didn't care. The Browns finally got points on the board – at the start of a game – and against their rivals of all teams. 

At least Dolph understood. 

“Potato. Potahto. Look, point is, you can try to hog him all up for yourself, Mizanin. Try to deny your eyes turn into hearts whenever you're around him. But it won't be for long.” There was too much celebrating to do to bother with what Ty was saying. Sure, it was early in the game to be so excited, but it was the point that the Browns were doing things right for once. He endured too many zero and sixteen seasons to not get excited over a simple six points on the board. 

“Don't you dare overturn that. Don't you fucking- Are you kidding me?! His feet are _in!_ Look at his damn toe! Morons!” He sat back down and snatched a few crackers out of the bowl, munching on them while the points were stolen back. Stupid, idiotic-

“I don't get what just happened. Like, at all.” The rest of the game was a rollercoaster, filled with bad calls and stupid plays. They managed to get two touchdowns that actually counted, but losing that first one bit them in the ass as the game drew to a close, Pittsburgh once again stealing the win. He knew they were cheating somehow, the majority of calls being made against Cleveland, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. He flicked it off and sat back, picking at his jersey with disappointment heavy on his chest.

Ty abandoned him before the first quarter ended, dragging everyone out for lunch and time on the town. Mike barely heard them leave, maybe said goodbye, but now the place was oddly quiet. It was his turn to make dinner, so he cleared up the bowls for snacks and grabbed the chicken breasts out of the freezer to thaw a little. Dolph, who endured the entire game with him, wished him a good night and went off to take care of another client. Clients on Sunday. He couldn't imagine it. His Sundays were reserved for relaxing and watching football.

He was able to get through a bath and get dressed before the crew returned, Ty calling out for Mike as the door slammed closed. Dream peeked into his room with a knock, Mike glancing up from his book and offering him a wave. 

“Wanted to tell you we're back.”

Dinner was grilled chicken and rice, one of the only things Mike was any good at making. Dream was the best cook out of all of them - Ty being the worst – and made incredible things Mike couldn't even dream of making. His meager kitchen skills were limited to baking chicken, warming up broccoli (or some other vegetable) in a pot, and maybe occasionally pasta or rice on the side. At least he was better than Ty, who couldn't fix chicken up without setting off fire alarms and filling the room with smoke.

On Ty's night, everyone offered to pitch in. Make something edible in the (very likely) case dinner didn't go right. Mike wondered if maybe Ty used that to his advantage.

As he was plating the food, his mind wandered briefly to Dolph. Was he any good in the kitchen? A hot mess like Ty? Maybe somewhere in between, like Lexi or Mike? Would he prefer plates of pasta with thick sauce and meat? (He seemed like the type to love meat in his pasta) Or maybe he was a steak and potatoes kind of man. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't quite squash the train of thought, even as he called everyone in for dinner. Quiet thank you's and a thumbs up from Dream, who was already digging in before he got to his seat. He imagined some people looked at cooking a great meal like how Mike looked at nailing a complicated number.

The feeling of the crowd watching his movements, appreciating the hard work and agility it took to do the things they did, it was something he wouldn't trade for the world. And he supposed some people felt that way about cooking. It was a good thing Mike never cared much for what people thought of his cooking. Mediocre at best; burn the kitchen down and call the poison control at the worst. 

“Got a lot on your mind, Mizanin?” He blinked up and found Summer watching him, plate empty and lip gloss still perfectly in place. He never understood how girls managed that. He tried it once, on a dare in college, and it was the worst experience. Eating was a chore, and it felt like he had gooey strawberry shit on his lips all day long.

“Nothing more than usual.” She would probably take that as his obsession with dance, and sure, he was thinking of it. But, tonight, he had a few other things on the brain. And it wasn't something he cared to talk about. Not with anyone.

“It's probably a good thing you went with no sauce or gravy. Breezy is on dish duty, and I fear for anyone who makes something sticky or messy on the day he is washing dishes.” They shared a laugh, Dream joining them with a bright laugh of his own. Mike liked them a lot. The group he was put into filled with sparkling personalities. Not to mention he somehow got to spend it all with one of his closest friends. Even if Ty did get on his nerves every once in a while.

“We have an early day tomorrow. I'm off to bed.” Everyone called out to him, Dream even reaching out and pressing a playful kiss to his cheek. Ty, smirk sliding into place, waved to him and winked.

“I would say 'sweet dreams', but I already know you'll be having a ball.” Mike flipped him off and disappeared behind his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this song, btw. 'Boys Like You' by Who is Fancy ft Meghan Trainor and Ariana Grande. His other song, Goodbye, is super good. 
> 
> Also. I love Skid Row.


	4. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I see that sexy look in your eyes, and I know, we ain't friends anymore_
> 
> _If we walk down this road, we'll be lovers for sure..."_
> 
> "The Other Side" by Jason Derulo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really took so long wow. But the extra time made it better than I originally thought it would be.
> 
> Editing is all mine so if there are any mistakes...be gentle with me. I edit this thing without glasses and at three in the morning.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! We're about halfway there!

Days and weeks passed in a blur of rain and sun, sweat and sore muscles, dance floors and _many_ lavender bubble baths. With the gym sessions sprinkled in, Mike was stretched thin and running on fumes most of the time. It didn't help that sleeping was no longer giving him enough energy, his feet dragging through the day and mind slogging through the routines. His patience was thin, and he snapped at people more than normally. Especially Ty, who could grate on his nerves on a good day. 

He tried increasing his calories – focusing on foods that would boost his energy – and going to sleep earlier, but neither helped him feel any better. He even tried yoga practices online that promised to unlock energy stores or something in his body. Nothing seemed to be working. He was tired (exhausted, really), irritable, and unable to focus. His head felt foggy, and he struggled putting thoughts together a lot of the time. 

He knew his body pretty well, but he wasn't an expert. And, well, personal trainers knew stuff about the body. Right? So, he brought it up with Dolph after a brutal session. His body felt too heavy, like his bones weighed forty pounds each, and his head was throbbing. He may not know much about body mechanics, but he knew that wasn't normal. Dolph's brows furrowed as he spoke, though how clear he was being he couldn't be sure. His thoughts felt like they were flying away from him when he tried to reach out to grab one.

“I go to bed at ten o'clock and eat plenty of vegetables. I've increased my calorie intake. I've been feeling like this for a few days now and I don't know what's wrong. Maybe I'm getting sick?” It would be just his luck to come down with the flu or something. But Dolph shook his head, rubbing a hand across his jaw.

“Maybe. You're in a totally new environment now. But I personally think you're just doing too much, and I was afraid of that from the beginning. We can train our bodies to do incredible things, but no body is made to run at such a high level all the time. You do regular dance classes and conditioning three or four days a week, and then you have our sessions on top of all that. Your body can't keep up with that schedule for very long.” Dolph and Mike were sat on a bench facing some fancy L.A. clothes shop, girls tossing things at each other and parading around with wide brim hats and shades nearly taking up their face. Mike really hated sitting in the locker room on those uncomfortable benches with guys coming in and out the whole time, so Dolph suggested they go find a place outside to sit and talk. It was nice out, and for the first time he felt okay.

“My advice? Cut back on your gym time. Since you're kind of stuck doing what the dance instructors want you to do. We'll keep with the yoga if you think it's beneficial, but otherwise I suggest focusing primarily on dance and what you need to do for that. Get your body back to where it's happy.” Mike knew he was right, knew when he started the sessions that he was going to be pushing his body harder than he ever did before, but he didn't want to stop. It felt like giving up, like he wasn't good enough or strong enough, and quitting was never something he was good at. His dad was a big hand in that one, instilling in him this drive to be better and work harder and push farther than anyone else. Quitting was never an option.

And now he was having to do exactly that. It was a tough pill to swallow, his stubbornness blocking him from being able to accept Dolph's advice. He was searching for any way to get around this block – to break through it – but he knew sometimes there was nothing anyone could do. His body was at its limit. There was no way to make it do more than it was capable of handling. As lean and toned as he looked and felt, how good he felt (at first), his health had to come first. Being able to dance meant keeping his body in top shape.

That was all coupled with this new flood of emotions he felt about this trainer in particular. It wasn't like him to be in this situation; where his heart was beating out of his chest at dumb things and he couldn't wait for the next time he got to lace up his trainers and drive across town to go to the _gym._ It was how he normally felt about _dancing._ And it wasn't just because he was really really _really_ good-looking. Like, wow. But it was more than that.

Unlike a lot of trainers Mike knew or who his friends complained about, Dolph seemed to understand the person at heart rather than looking at him as a machine that needed to be put to work. He clearly cared about his clients, always attentive and friendly and pushing him to hit that final rep. There was never judgment or superiority when he spoke to Mike, who wasn't all that familiar with a gym when he started their program.

Working with Dolph was like working out with a friend rather than a trainer, and it made Mike want to hold on that much tighter. He _liked_ Dolph. A lot.

“I don't know. The festival...” Dolph leaned back against the bench, arms stretched along the back and shades perched on his nose. Today he had on a bright pink tank that screamed **'IT'S BRITNEY BITCH'** in bold black lettering and snug black jeans. It only took him a week to realize his trainer was kind of obsessed with Britney Spears, and now it amused him greatly how many different Britney tanks he had. How he alternated between vibrant neon-colored shirts with lyrics plastered across the chest and faded band shirts from the likes of Guns N' Roses or Alice In Chains. 

Don't tell anyone, but he found that particular fact to be rather charming.

“Look, how about this. Let's just take a week off. Go focus on your normal stuff. Rest as much as you can. We'll see how you feel when we meet again next Friday. Maybe you're just sick and taking some time off will help. Stressing the body can make it susceptible to illness.” Before Mike could protest, Dolph pushed his sunglasses into his hair, earnest blue eyes meeting his. “I know it's the last thing you want to hear, but you won't be doing much dancing if you're in the hospital or sidelined by your instructor. Your health has to come first.”

It was true. Damn, why did he have to be right?

“I guess a week won't hurt. But don't think you'll be _replacing_ me any time soon. I'm a Mizanin and we never give up. I'll be back.” The smile he received sent a thrill through his body, his heart skipping beats. He would be missing that.

“I wouldn't dream of replacing you, Mizanin. Get better, okay?”

“Dump him.” Ty stirred his milkshake with the straw. There was a hint of humor in his voice, but his eyes were serious as they watched Mike. He snorted and nudged Ty, the drink nearly falling out of his hands. Good thing it didn't because he might end up punching Mike in the face. And having a black eye meant tons of makeup to cover it up, which he despised.

“Shut up. It's only a week, and it's because I'm probably doing too much. This will be good for me.” Three days passed by so far – Oh so slowly. Really, it was killing him a little. - and while he didn't feel all that great still, he wasn't falling asleep at the dinner table. Or fading out during rehearsal.

Now, if only his thoughts could focus on anything other than the handsome trainer he now definitely stalked on Instagram each night. It probably didn't help that he saw him only yesterday for morning yoga. And he knew three days wasn't all that long, but he was so ready for this stupid crush to pass. Because it was really distracting on the dance floor, or when he was in his bed and staring up at the ceiling, nothing to keep his mind away from a certain California boy and the feelings cluttering his chest. Feelings he couldn't believe were there.

And no, he was not mentioning any of that to Ty. No way. He was keeping his Instagram stalking and obsessive little crush to himself. Because it would pass.

“Yeah, you're right. Your health is the most important thing. Especially right now. I mean, this is your big chance.” He sipped his milkshake and hummed. “I change my mind. Definitely marry him. I need my Mikey to have a man who will look after him since he never will.”

“Will you stop? I've already shared my opinion on this subject. Let's talk about something else.” Ty huffed and finished his shake with a loud echoing sound in the cup. Mike snatched it away and tossed it away in the trash, ignoring the way his mouth gaped at him or how he whined at the loss of his cup. He deserved it for being an ass about this situation. 

“Why couldn't I have gotten a less stubborn best friend?” They decided to head back to the dormitory, chatting about the dance routine they needed to do for the assessment. And normally he would be over-analyzing the routine and itching to practice it in his room or at an open dance studio near his apartment. But, no. He was still thinking of how he had to wait four days before he could see Dolph and figure out the situation with his body and their sessions at the gym.

He brushed the thoughts away, cheeks flaming when he realized he did it with his hand rather than just...in his mind...Ty raising his brow but not saying a word. For once in his life. He sighed and pushed in after Ty, greeting the dancers spread about the room, still stuck in his thoughts. Barely paying attention to what anyone was saying. 

The early days of a new crush were always the best. The rush of dopamine that hit him when he would see the man at the gym. The stupid banter and sorta-flirting-sorta-joking that would pass between them (Well, not _them._ Just crushes in general.) until someone was brave enough to take that first step and put meaning to their words. Their movements and contact.

But, as it often was with people and emotions, they were often also some of the worst. Like, yeah, it's always exciting seeing the new blooms of attraction in the fertile grounds of new feelings. But with that came the nagging feeling of not being good enough. And especially when it came to men, for him, there was always that nervous itching fear that he might make an ass of himself. It happened. Many times, and it never went well. 

Then there was the shift in his world. Suddenly, he was trying to impress someone else and look good and act in a way that would be attractive and pleasing to whoever it was he was crushing on. In this particular situation, his obsession with dance was now split with thoughts of pretty eyes and heart-stopping smiles. And it was only going to get worse if he didn't get a handle on the situation. The man was already constantly on his mind. Crushes, if not carefully watched, could dive into dangerous territory. There was just no way he could have any kind of real relationship; not at this point in his life. In this budding career he was building for himself. 

Not to mention he knew there was no way Dolph could ever feel that way about him. That wasn't realistic. Which would only mean pain, unrequited feelings, and the memory of his time in California overshadowed by something that never should have happened in the first place. 

Mike knew better than to let himself fall for someone. Really let himself walk down the path he was staring down. This someone happened to live rather far away from where he planned on staying. And everyone knew how long-distance relationships panned out. He kicked his shoes off and sat on his bed, ignoring the itch in his fingers to take out his phone. To scroll through Instagram and pretend he wasn't only searching for one face. 

No. He couldn't entertain the thought of anything happening between them. Aside from the fact he just couldn't commit to a relationship right now, it was unprofessional of him. This was someone he was working with. And what did he always say? Never mix work and pleasure. There was a reason he felt that way. Why he didn't date or sleep with people he worked with. 

Plus, it was all so silly. When he sat back and looked at it, he had to laugh. This was just a little attraction that Mike could beat into submission. No problem. He's only done it a million times before. Once his career was in motion, he could open his heart to someone... Should they ever come along. Should he even want that with someone else. 

Not that he was giving that little thought any attention because it's been a month. He's gotten over worse. Deeper holes he dug. This was nothing...

Too bad his brain and heart had some sort of vendetta against him. As much as he was convincing himself he could beat it – that he could get through these six months without scars – his most unhelpful organs were sabotaging any confidence or progress he could make. Which, admittedly, wasn't much. But it could be more if random thoughts of the man didn't pop up to remind him. 

As if he could forget. 

They so far worked together a mere four weeks and Mike was laying in bed thinking about him. Wondering just how he could juggle the gym and dancing like he desperately wanted to. How he could make things work with Dolph. Stuck with spinning thoughts and no sleep in sight. How lovely, considering he was due for a massage in the morning. He groaned, rolling over and shoving his face in the pillow. Maybe he could drown out the thoughts...

He groaned into the pillow, clenching the corners in his hands. This was so unfair.

It didn't really take someone long to notice he was getting antsy now. For one, he was still snappish more than he normally was, even though he was actually feeling much better. (That was probably part of the problem; not that he was going to admit that...) Summer and Dream were taken aback the other morning when he nearly bit their heads off for asking if he wanted to go out for frozen yogurt. 

Ty, of course, tried more than once to get him to talk, but he was not going to admit to anyone – least of all Ty, the king of inappropriate comments and teasing – what was going on. It was embarrassing enough. He didn't need everyone and their mother to know Mike was struggling with something as silly as a crush on his personal trainer. He was a grown-ass man. This was high school foolishness.

And, most importantly, it would pass. He just needed time. Space was good. And apparently the perfect remedy for his exhaustion. In another month, he would be passed this little hiccup. Back to his normal self. 

Carmella, however, apparently saw through all his bullshit when no one else was able to. 

He picked at his salad, hunched over the table with the sun beating through his shirt, and tried to ignore her presence in the chair in front of him. He normally loved hanging out with her – Carmella was a wonderful person to be around when you really wanted to chill – but today he was in a foul mood for no real reason and was not exactly excited to entertain anyone's company.

Not that anyone apparently _cared_.

“I was hoping lunch could be solo today.” She ordered an avocado toast and flicked her hair behind her shoulder. Brown eyes batted at him until he grumbled and stabbed his fork through some lettuce. 

“Mike, what's wrong?” It's like his wall just took too many hits lately. It crumbled down and he set his fork down with a hefty sigh. He wouldn't dare admit how he feels – there was no way he was ready to unpack that mess – but it would feel good to get something off his chest. Mike was a man who shared his burdens, and was always eager to help someone with their own whenever they needed it. He believed the best way to deal with them was to have someone help with the load. 

But in this case, he was taking it on his own. Because there wasn't even anything worth sharing with another person. He could handle it.

“I've been having so many setbacks lately.” Even with one sentence, there was weight peeling off him. Carmella only watched him, no judgment or pity in her eyes. She was really there just to listen. To offer him company, a shoulder, an ear, and maybe a tidbit of advice if she had any. He was really glad she was chosen to come along.

“I can't ever seem to keep up with everyone's pace, which is beyond frustrating. Then I decide to try and get my body in far better shape than it's ever been, and it decides it can't handle my training regiment along with dancing. My friends – normally the lights of my life - are driving me crazy. The people we have to work with are as obnoxious as my idiot friends. It's only going to get harder, you know? I guess it's just...piling up on me.” She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, offering a sympathetic smile that he knew was genuine. Carmella was one of the more genuine people he's known, even though she tried to act like she wasn't.

“You know what I think?” She waited until he looked away from his salad, smiling at him and warming him like sunshine. “You're stuck in a rut. Have you thought about doing something outside of this dancing bubble you've trapped yourself in?” He snorted at the mere idea of taking his eyes off dance, but Carmella narrowed her eyes. “As happy as dance makes you, and heaven knows we've all heard just how much, everyone has noticed how going to the gym seemed to be the highlight of your week this past month. And Sunday is seriously your favorite day of the week.” Only because Dolph wasn't canceling that yet. They both agreed yoga was perfect for him. 

He swallowed the burning resentment and hurt, knowing it was for his own good. Dolph was doing his job- looking after Mike's health. 

“Obviously you have an awesome trainer, or you wouldn't be running out the door with your tennis shoes chasing after you. And I'm not suggesting anything like Ty, so don't look at me like that. I just think there's a reason why you enjoyed it so much. Handsome trainer or not. And I think it's because it was different than dancing. Different people to talk to and be around.” He cleared his throat, trying to smother the glare he could still feel in his eyes. What she said made sense, but it was difficult for him to accept. Dancing was all he's ever known since he was nineteen and looking for a path to follow. 

How could the answer to his temper and moods and frustrations be stepping away from the thing he loved? He was someone who dug in deep, not pull away.

“Sorry. What you're saying makes sense, but I don't know if that's for me. And we don't really have many options at the moment. The festival is coming and I'm already pulled so tight. I don't have time for anything that's not dancing.” Her food arrived, the waiter asking if they needed anything else before slipping away. Mike sipped at his water.

“You can't spare an hour? Look me in the eye right now and tell me you can't.” Damn it. She was right. 

“Fine. I can.” She smiled.

“Good. Now, go call up the friend you have out here and hang out. Or maybe set something up with your trainer- _outside_ of the gym. Because it's totally okay to make a new friend, Mike. To hang out and have fun together.” It was like she was opening a door he was afraid to touch and gently coaxing him into the blinding light shining through it. A small part of his dilemma was that he was refusing to let himself consider friendship with Dolph. That he was 'quitting' him cold turkey. He missed the other man more than he thought he would – more than he really should – and now it was like he was getting someone's validation that he wasn't weird or crazy. 

It was hard to explain, but it was like he was afraid of stepping wrong and getting tangled in feelings he couldn't afford having. But if Mella was telling him he could do it, maybe he could. Maybe hanging out with Dolph would help him see there was no romantic compatibility. “Get out of the dorms and away from the dance floor. You don't want to end up hating it, Mike.” She made so much sense. And listening to her, he figured out what part of his problem was. 

Yes, he was beyond stressed with everything. But he was especially sour because he couldn't go to the gym. Not only because he couldn't hang out with Dolph, but because he couldn't get _away_ from his problems and shortcomings now. He was stuck in the bubble, as Carmella said, and it was grating on him. 

This time away from the gym didn't have to be torture like he secretly feared it needed to be. A sort of 'punishment' for having the feelings he did. Yes, he could hang out with Dolph if he wanted to. There was really nothing wrong with that. And how could he so easily forget John was only a text away from dragging him around L.A., excitedly showing him everything the city had to offer single men like them?

“Why are you so right? Thanks, Mella.” 

John showed up holding two cups of coffee, wearing aviator shades and his best smile. The man was made for movie screens, and it made him proud every day that John was out here doing what he loved. And killing it! It wouldn't be too much longer before he was being invited to a big premiere for some blockbuster movie John was starring in.

Just like it wouldn't be too much longer before John was front row of a concert he was a dancer for. Every morning he manifested this vision – of him on stage, lights bright – before putting in the work to make it come true. This festival was going to be his break. He could feel it deep down. 

Mike accepted the drink offered to him with a grateful sigh, the two of them heading towards the rental car John parked along the sidewalk while buying the coffee. His car was apparently getting work done on it. As they climbed into the convertible, the leather seats warm from the sunlight, John set his coffee in the cup holder and shook his head while looking at Mike struggling to balance his coffee in one hand and fasten his seatbelt with the other. He could _help_ by taking the cup from him, but his supposed friend only watched him struggle. 

That's it. He was getting new friends. Buying them, if he had to. 

“Why has it taken you over a month to ring me up to hang out? Am I not fancy enough for your soon-to-be-world-famous ass?” Music blared from the radio the second he started it, something stupidly catchy he knew would be stuck in his head the rest of the day. They took off down the road, wind whipping through John's hair and lashing him in the face when he turned to offer Mike a classic Morrison grin. Teasing, charming, and smug enough to warrant coffee to the face. 

Mike missed him so much.

“I barely could function these past few weeks, man. Between the gym and the dance classes, I'm beyond tired more often than not.” He hated trying to yell over the music and traffic, but it was far too nice to not drive with the top down and blast the pop hits radio station. At least, according to John. 

“Yeah? How is that going for you? The gym, I mean. Isn't Dolph just the best?” If by 'best' he meant Grecian god, angel, and sex god all wrapped in one, then sure. Definitely the best. Hopefully the blush he was wearing wasn't too noticeable; or at least would be mistaken for sunburn. 

Right. Sunburn in October. 

They parked outside a line of shops and restaurants, people milling by and peering over at them. Probably because John was still blasting Ariana Grande (could he ever get away from her??) Some lifted their glasses and slowed their pace. Like they were animals in a zoo. Mike pretended not to notice, sliding his own sunglasses in place while John hopped over the door of his car. Like the asshole showoff he was.

Definitely perfect for Hollywood.

“He's good at what he does. But we're taking a break and seeing if I can get my energy back. I'm supposed to meet up with him again on Friday to talk about changes and stuff like that.” John snorted, leading them into a place that smelled so good, his stomach rumbled. The last thing he ate was a bagel before class that morning.

“That sucks, though you seem okay right now. But actually, I meant what do you think of him, like, not as a trainer?” The blood rushed to his face once more, this time enough he was certain he was nearly purple. At least John was too nice to say anything. 

There was no way his friend was suggesting there could be any kind of feelings. He couldn't be. Just when he was thinking he could escape this for one day. John waved to a waitress as they took their seats in a booth. “I know you're the one he's texting when football comes on. You're the only one I know who likes the same lame team as him. What was it? The Chicago Brownies or something.”

“Cleveland. You know, the place I'm from? And it's 'Browns'.” John waved it off like an annoying bug. Which, yeah, he understood that feeling. He loved his team, but they were probably the worst in the league. 

“Whatever. I figured you two would hit it off, having so much in common. I was tempted to not introduce you because I know he's one of the few people who could replace me as your best friend, but it would be stupid. He's a great trainer, and he's a fucking riot. Get to know him. You'll be dying.” Yeah. He already was, though not for the reason John was suggesting. But he smiled anyway and huffed a laugh, ordering the grilled chicken and rice while John indulged in some sort of pasta.

“I don't know. I wouldn't want to make you jealous or anything.” A bread basket was set on the table between them, the waitress giving them both a big smile that lingered a moment too long. He picked a warm roll out and smelled it, the yeast-scented goodness making his mouth water. He didn't eat things like that often anymore, but it was a special day. And it wasn't like he wasn't going to burn through it at conditioning tomorrow.

“Nah. I know I'm still your favorite actor. That's good enough for me.” He dipped the bread in a marinara sauce. “Now, let's get into the good stuff. Tell me all the dancer drama. I watch 'Dance Moms', so I know there has to be something good.”

After the day of screwing around Los Angeles with John, he made an effort to make future plans he would actually stick to. And, taking Carmella's advice, he texted Dolph a few times. No plans were made, but he was still flying above the clouds the rest of the day. When was the last time he was this over the moon about someone? 

It took some haggling, but they finally figured out a time and place to hang out. It would be the first step into a real friendship with Dolph, and he was stupidly nervous. Even pulling on his jersey, he could feel the butterflies doing their dance in his stomach, chest tightening more than when he went on stage. It wasn't a date. It was just two guys going out to a sports bar and watching a game on a Thursday afternoon. 

Totally casual. Outside of the professional environment.

“Anyone ever tell you that you look sexy in a football jersey?” Ty was sprawled out on the couch, bowls of popcorn and pretzels next to him and a show on. Mike snorted, checking himself in the little mirror on the wall. This would be the...fifth time? “Aw, trying to look good for your date? Don't worry; you look good enough to eat.”

“Was there an extra dose of sexual frustration in your breakfast this morning?” Dream and Summer fell over laughing, Carmella hiding her smile behind a book. He merely shrugged and crunched on popcorn.

“Maybe. Hey, remember safe sex is the best sex!” Yep. He was out of there. Wallet and keys were in his pockets, so he shouted his goodbye and hurried to his car. His heart was already skipping faster than his pace. Maybe this was a bad idea.

No. This was definitely a bad idea. One of the worst he's ever had. The place was crowded with excited sports fans, televisions broadcasting everything from football to a cooking show he had no clue who was watching. The wait at the door was an hour, but apparently Dolph knew what it would be like and somehow had a table snatched for them. So, when Mike arrived, he was standing there by the hostess stand, chatting up the pretty girl with painful looking braids raining down her back. Seemingly waiting, though he wouldn't be surprised if he was just there to flirt with her.

The Browns mainly had two different colored jerseys- brown and white. He was wearing a white number 40 jersey he got from his dad a few years ago, while Dolph sported a brown one with the number 1 on it. Unlike Mike's, his said 'ZIGGLER' on the back in large white print rather than that of a player's. He wasn't noticed just yet, so he lingered a moment just inside the doorway, watching like a creep.

It somehow still hit him square in the chest how _good-looking_ the guy was. He saw him three times a week. Under the fluorescent lights of the gym. On the beach at sunrise. And yet, there he was struggling to get a grip on himself. There wasn't even anything special about how he looked on that particular day! Like, if he was dressed up in a suit or something, then okay. That made sense. But it was literally a football jersey and jeans. J-E-A-N-S. As in, denim pants most people wore daily. What was sexy about jeans? Nothing, unless they were apparently wrapped around the legs of the man standing only a short distance from him.

Mike was too old for this. But evidently it couldn't be helped! He hoped it subsided soon because it was pretty ridiculous of him to be as old as he was and still be floored by how someone looked on a given day. Mike swallowed down the sawdust collected in his mouth now and finally stepped towards them. Right as Dolph shot a glance at the door, leaning away from the podium to greet Mike with a smile that made him nearly trip over nothing. 

Could he, like, not embarrass himself?

“Great, you made it! Come on. I already got us the best seat.” The hostess pouted after them, but Dolph was already talking a mile a minute and slipping through the crowded bar with ease. After excusing himself for the twentieth time, he finally made it to the table, bumping into Dolph and nearly falling over. Again.

“Sorry. You'd think being from New York I would be used to getting through crowds.” They ordered wings and beers after a waitress in a _tight_ blue shirt read them the deals for the day. 

“And as a _dancer_ , you would think there would be more...grace to you.” His protest was cut off by Dolph pointing out the different games, the biggest television playing a San Francisco/Seattle game. Clearly, they were the only ones in the entire state who cared about Cleveland, but at least they both had the same idea. Imagine if Mike came in his Browns jersey and was the only one in the place wearing something not Niners. 

Their food arrived faster than any place he's ever been, slathered in sauce and perfectly warm. The beers were in frosted bottles, the waitress snapping them off with a bottle opener without batting an eye and hurrying off to another table before they could see if they needed anything. 

He really felt bad for the people who did that work. It was rarely rewarding.

“So, there's no Cleveland games playing.” He licked the extra sauce off his finger and then picked up a napkin to clean it off better. Dolph nodded, drinking his beer while eyeing the screen adjacent to them. It was playing some basketball game. When they made plans, they originally wanted to watch a Cleveland game together (of course). But then Dolph started talking about this sports bar about an hour out and he suggested they go check it out on a day where a game would be playing and here they were. Sharing baskets of saucy wings and glaring at the Niners game. 

Because no one but people who lived in San Fran cared about that team.

“Yeah. But they do have one on Sunday. Obviously they won't play it here, but you could come to my place to watch it.” This outing wasn't even over and they were talking about the next time they could hang out. Watch a game they actually could be invested in and hang out at his place. (Which was a fantastic idea because who knew what Ty would say if he met Dolph. Mike shuddered at the thought.) They were getting on so well with each other (as John figured they would), being so similar and sharing plenty of common interests. Mike found himself wanting to hang out with him, and not just because he was attracted to him. 

Being attractive didn't go very far when it came to relationships. People would sleep with someone they thought was hot. Maybe ask them on a date once or twice. Make out with them at a party. But hanging out, drinking beer and munching on messy wings while talking about a little bit of everything...that was solid foundation to build a friendship on. A _real_ lasting relationship with someone. One that could overcome distance thanks to the technology they were blessed to have. And that was both incredibly tempting and horribly dangerous for him.

What better person to fall in love with than someone who was your best friend? Love was obviously a long way off, Mike wasn't delusional or psycho, but it was something he couldn't help but think about. Because it would be so _easy_. He could see it. Dolph was stupid hot, witty as hell, and Mike was nearly crying he was laughing so hard. The stack was against him, and it was up to him whether or not he would take the chance. 

Like it was even a choice. John was right; Dolph was crazy awesome. It would be stupid of him to pretend he could actually pass up on friendship with him. Feelings or not, there was no way he could work with the man for five months and not have some sort of relationship with him. Especially when they had John in common.

Yes, friendship was definitely doable. And not really something he could get around– unless he was going to quit the gym...which he wasn't. As for these feelings he was working through? They would fade away as they settled into friendship. It always did. He just needed to wait it out and not do anything stupid. 

He was surrounded by pretty people who were funny. Dealing with Dolph would be just the same once the initial bubbly feeling wore off and their friendship was cemented. Which, at this rate, would take no time at all. They tapped the bottles together and drank at the same time, trading stories while the defense of New England battled the skilled offense of the Seahawks. Their waitress dropped by a check after some time, which Dolph snatched up before he could make a move towards it. 

Which, fine. He could get the next one.

“Well, that was fun.” They stood on the sidewalk outside the sports bar, the sunshine fading behind the buildings in a blinding line of reds and orange across the sky. Night would be falling soon. An end to another day in California. 

“I guess I had a good time. Would have been better if there were less disgusted stares and obnoxious shouting.” Dolph snorted, kicking the sidewalk with his shoe and pushing his hands into his jean pockets. It was nice, just getting to relax. No routines. No deadlines. No annoying comments or antics that have him wanting to strangle Ty. He needed to do this more often. Save his sanity.

“Don't worry, buddy. My place has none of that. Well, there probably will be shouting, but at least it will be our own. Hopefully, we can actually get a win.” True. But he was fine with that. Even if the Browns decided to bomb the whole game in the last three minutes (like they were prone to doing), it would be a good time getting to ride the emotional roller coaster with someone. 

“I'm glad we could do this. It's nice getting away from work for a while and just hanging out with a friend. Drinking a little. Munching on wings. Shooting the breeze and watching a game or two.” Yes. Friendship. That was good. It was what he wanted...

Until he was pulled into a hug, an arm thrown around his neck and a hand patting his back. A friendly hug, but his thoughts were struggling to stay friendly. Because it felt _good_ being here, and somehow he smelled like the ocean and sunshine this close. His embrace was warm and gone far too quickly, leaving him feeling like he was being jerked into a fog, lost and off-kilter. Dazed.

“See you tomorrow!” It took him far too long to come back to himself, and when he did Dolph was long gone. He was alone on the sidewalk. Well, not _alone_ alone. People mulled around him, talking and laughing and shouting. Not that any of it could be understood in his wind tunnel. With a long sigh and a roll of his shoulders, he hurried over to his car and started on the long drive back to the dorms.

Friday morning, he returned to the gym bright and early. Determined more than ever to work it out somehow. He felt good, he looked great, and he was going to do everything in his power to keep it that way. There had to be something he could do, or maybe Dolph could do, so he could balance dance and working out without his body giving up. He really wanted to keep it up for the festival in the spring. 

Mike greeted a new check-in girl, taking a drink from his shake while she called on Dolph and trying to ignore the flutter of wings in his stomach. The tightening in his chest. Keep it professional. It _will_ go away. 

It always did. His heart belonged to dance. In the end, no pretty face or charming wit could drag him away from the glossy wooden floors. He just had to make it through this bump in the road and things would smooth out.

“So, you've returned to the torture chamber. How are you feeling?” The second he looked up and met the brilliant smile and crinkled eyes, it was like the sun was brighter. The world around him rosier. Everything was in slow motion, anything outside of him and Dolph faded to white noise as they shared a greeting. “And don't lie to your trainer.”

When did he swallow a bucket of sand? Where was a bottle of water when a man needed one? His shake was only clogging his throat, making it harder to swallow. The butterflies leaped into his throat, choking him into an embarrassing squeak as he said hello.

How was he supposed to fight this? Was he really foolish enough to believe he could? It didn't matter because he _needed_ to. 

He fought for his voice, Dolph watching him with mild amusement, scratching his neck and trying to pull his mind away from California eyes and skin that probably smelled like the sea. Of sunshine and sand and early morning coffee with a splash of vanilla cream. Maybe tasted like the salty waves he could still smell even as he laid in bed at night. Yeah, that thought was squashed under a steel-toed boot. 

“I think I was, like, coming down with something.” They headed into the gym, people greeting Dolph as they passed. He was rather popular among clients and staff alike. “I feel really great now, actually. Like I'm ready to get back at it.” Dolph stopped them just outside the locker rooms, eyeing him for a second before nodding slowly.

“If you're seriously still interested in training with me, then I think we need to make a few changes in your schedule. Can't have you fainting on the big stage, right?” He made a note on that clipboard he always carried. “We'll definitely keep the Sunday morning yoga, because it is the perfect way to help the body heal and recover after a long week of working.” Mike did a little dance in his head. He would gladly give up a million Sunday mornings sleeping in for the chance to have an hour of yoga on the beach with this man.

“Great. I don't think I'll be able to go a Sunday without doing a little yoga in the morning. My body wakes up at five sharp no matter what.” And it was the truth.

“As for gym work, I'm thinking we cut your sessions to just half an hour. Focus on core work since that seems to be your biggest concern. We'll stick to the light circuit. We're still just toning, right?” He nodded. “Is there anything else you might want to do? Any certain kind of workout you wanted to try? There is a lot to offer at this particular gym, and I happen to be something of an expert at pretty much anything going on in the fitness world. HIIT. Circuit Training. Pilates. Fasted Cardio. Sprints. You name it.” He was perfectly fine with the training regimen he had currently, thank you. He wasn't a big gym guy anyway. Blue eyes flickered up from where Dolph was making notes.

“I think keeping it all simple is probably the best idea. Right? So, core is fine. And I know a lot of people would probably say they want to tone up their ass, but I happen to know I am perfectly fine in that area. I think core and that circuit complement our conditioning classes perfectly. I really want to get ahead of the others in Fandango's class; and those people train like psychos.” Dolph cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He ducked his head a little lower, like he couldn't read something he'd written down. After a moment of silent writing, Dolph glanced back up and nodded slowly.

“Great. That sounds like a good idea. Schedule wise, I want us to stick to Tuesday and Friday, if that still works for you.” It was relieving how easy this all was. He wondered how much work Dolph put into his scheduling outside of the gym. None of this sounded like he was just talking out his ass or anything. These were well thought out plans that Mike could agree to. It made his life a lot easier, actually. 

“Tuesday and Friday are perfect. We don't have any classes Saturday, Sunday, and Tuesday, so I'm going to work on relaxing and recovery more than before.” Finished with the boring stuff, they hit the floor. Free weights were Dolph's favorite torture tool apparently, along with some stupid ball thing he had to stand on and balance while doing rows and squats. Then there was the core burnout, which somehow made him sweat more than being on the dance floor.

He loathed core work. It's why he was in the position he was in.

Mike tried his hardest throughout his workout to keep his eyes far away from the glistening perfect picture of physical fitness standing only a foot away from his death bed. People really shouldn't be so...attractive. Especially in a gym. It wasn't fair to those trying to do their thing. People, like Mike, who were _normal._

Once he was showered and changed, bag slung over his shoulder, he stepped out into the gym area. More people were milling around, some on the treadmills while others grunted on the machines. Dolph was standing with a guy around their age wearing a tight black t-shirt with the name of the gym emblazoned across the chest, laughing at whatever it was he and the receptionist chick said. And as he passed by them, digging out his phone, a voice called out behind him.

“See you bright and early Sunday, Mike!” He stopped short of the door, turning to find Dolph waving to him and the guy by him watching Mike. Arms crossed. Like he was sizing Mike up for some reason. Hopefully his face was obviously red and it wasn't obvious he was ridiculously uncomfortable with the attention. Not wanting to block the door, he nodded and offered a lame thumbs up before scurrying out into the sunshine. Kicking himself the entire way and wondering who that other dude was and why he was looking at Mike with furrowed brows.

Saturday passed by pretty uneventfully. Ty and Summer flirted in front of the fridge, Carmella perched on the counter with a book in hand and a bowl of blueberries by her side. Dream and Lex dragged them out to various dance studios to check out the local talents, the instructors there excitedly picking their brains for over an hour while Mike made plans with John to hit the beach next week. Mike chilled in a bath for a few minutes that evening while everyone else watched a scary movie, their screams drowning out his soothing music and ruining the ambiance of his alone time. 

Sleep came easily, probably for the first time in a while. 

Sunday morning came in like a lion, dragging Mike from his warm bed and pushing him out the door with crust still in his eyes but a skip in his step. Because Sunday mornings were definitely his favorite part of the week. His skin prickled from the morning chill as he hurried to their car, regretting not grabbing a sweater because the chill of autumn was hitting L.A. 

Dolph's car was already there when he arrived, though he wasn't late. In fact, he was a few minutes early. See? His body was set to wake him up for this little slice of perfect. For this brief moment where nothing needed to matter outside of his form and Dolph's soft voice mingling with rolling waves.

“Mornin'.” That sandpaper rasp never failed to shoot a thrill up his spine. No matter how many mornings he heard it, his heart still skipped beats and his throat dried up. The mats were already spread out on the sand, Dolph sipping at his coffee and seemingly waiting for Mike to get going. Why did he feel like he was running late?

“Been waiting long?” Dolph shuffled, and even though his brain was still asleep for the most part, he could see the man was acting like he was embarrassed. 

“I got here a bit early. I was having trouble sleeping last night. Figured it wouldn't hurt to get everything ready while waiting. I'm in no rush today, though, so you can take your time getting prepared. Grabbing your coffee. Warming up.” Mike offered him a grateful smile and set to work making his coffee. Dolph joined him by the trunk of the car where the coffee supplies were, leaning against the shiny white paint and sipping on his own drink. It smelled heavenly.

Despite the fact Dolph was guiding him through the moves as easily as he normally did, Mike could tell he was distracted today. There was less attention to Mike's form (though still enough hands-on correction to send the butterflies loose) and the teasing comments were... lacking. Not that Mike didn't enjoy it anyway – he found it hard to believe there could be something Dolph did he wouldn't enjoy – but it had him wondering what was bothering him.

They closed the session with meditation, silently sitting on the mat cross-legged with eyes closed and hands pressed together at their chests. Then it was clean up time, Mike rolling his mat silently and waiting to see if Dolph had anything to say. If he would bring up what was clearly on his mind. And just as he figured he wasn't going to get to know what it was, packing up his car and then grabbing something to eat out of Dolph's car, the trunk of the car was shut and Dolph turned his head to meet Mike's eyes.

“I'm sure you have plans for today, but I wanted to invite you over to watch the game. I know I mentioned it off-handedly Thursday, but I wanted to ask you properly. It's cool if you can't; I know it's last minute.” There was a stretch of silence where Mike tried to understand what was being said. Probably only a couple of seconds, though it felt like an eternity.

“Sure. I don't have anything better to do, believe me. No one I know watches football or understands it.” Dolph pushed off the car, his usual grin back.

“Fantastic! I'll have beer and food, so don't worry about bringing anything.” Anticipation curled in his stomach. Bubbled in his chest.

“Alright, I'm going to head back and shower. Change. Is twelve-thirty a good time for you?” Dolph dug his phone out from his gym bag, tapping it and nodding along.

“Sounds good. I'm texting you my address. Hopefully, we can finally see the Browns kick some ass.” His phone vibrated in his pocket, so they said their goodbyes and headed for their own vehicles. Finally. He normally had to watch games all on his own – even in New York – but now he had someone who understood. Who could talk players and plays and stupid calls. This friendship was everything, which again had him worrying his lip and wondering if this was still a good idea. Becoming so close to someone....when he felt the way he did...

It was a big gamble, but Mike wasn't afraid of risk. He moved to New York with nothing more than a lot of hope and some money his mother had saved away. Chances were his crush would go away and things would be fine. He needed to stop worrying so much and focus on what was important: dance. Everything else would have to just fall into place on their own.

Ty was immediately suspicious, scaring the shit out of him when Mike stepped out of the shower. Sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him. He pressed his hand to his chest and clutched the towel wrapped around him a bit tighter. He really did not need a heart attack at the moment, thank you.

“Thanks for that.” He sifted through his shirts – mostly tanks and loose shirts good for dancing in – until he found a plain white one and his jersey tucked away in the bottom. He had about an hour before the game, and Dolph lived a good fourty-five minutes away from where they were staying. He was running a little late, his nap running longer than normal. He would have to shoot him a text soon to let him know he would be a little later than planned.

Before tugging on his shirts, he rolled on the deodorant and dug out his aftershave to put on. At this, Ty finally broke.

“I knew it. You're going out.” Always the observant one.

“Yeah. With a friend. Since none of you get football, I'm going to watch the game with him.” He finished getting ready, ignoring Ty as he pulled on his shoes and put his wallet in the pocket. Why was it weird Mike was going out? They did all the time. And far later than he ever dreamed of staying out.

“You never go out, Mike. Ever. I've known you nearly twelve years. What's different about being here?” There was implication in his tone, the way he was looking at Mike as he checked himself in the bathroom mirror one last time. 

“Nothing. The only people I know in New York are you guys, and what you guys like to do is not what I like. So I just stay home and work my ass off to be better than you.” Ty nudged him as they stepped into the living room, Lex and Summer painting their nails on the couch and chatting about someone 'so hot oh my gawd'. “I haven't seen John in years, so we're catching up.”

“It might take you another twenty years to get better than me, but it's nice to hear I inspire you. And don't try to act like this is just about John, who I still want to meet, by the way.” Ty loved to wiggle himself into every aspect of someone's life – to always know everything going on with someone no matter how personal it was – and the fact that Mike seemed to be locking him out of something was not going over well with him. 

Which, yeah, he was. But not because he didn't want his friend groups to mingle. You just never knew what Ty might say to someone. 

“I'm running late, Ty. Can we get to the point of this; if there is one?” Ty clicked it tongue at him, stupidly smug in a blink.

“This is all going to be in my best man speech at your wedding, Mizanin. Go have fun with your new boy toy. Be good.” His phone vibrated in his pocket. 

“You're the one who has 'boy toys', Breezy. I have friends. And what do you mean? I'm always good.” A hand smacked him on the butt as he opened the door, Ty's laugh drowned out in the slam of the heavy door. Mike hurried to his car and quickly got the pregame show playing on the radio. Football was one of his favorite things, soothing where dance was exhilarating. He pulled out onto the road and started the drive to Dolph's, the directions cutting into the commentary on playoff outlook and what games were showing today. 

“Hey, buddy! Come in! Come in!” Mike nodded his greeting, skating his gaze past Dolph's sunny expression and into the apartment. It was a nice place, pictures along the walls and shiny gray flooring dotted with fluffy rugs in various colors. He remembered Morrison saying something about getting gum stuck in a rug and cutting it out before his roommate noticed, which meant they were probably bought by Dolph. The man had decent taste, then. 

A quiet voice in his head said _'check'._ He shut that out and turned back to where Dolph was shutting the front door. He led the way into another room, a large flat-screen television already playing the highlights of past games, the commentators taking their picks for this week. The playoffs weren't for another few months, but apparently it wasn't too early to begin speculating.

“You get settled. I'll go grab the drinks. Anything in particular you want?.” He turned from the nasty tackle to the quarterback, foot twisting underneath him, and shifted his stance.

“What do you have?” He chose water from the (surprisingly long) list Dolph had, and was ushered farther into the room while Dolph scurried off to the kitchen. And he nearly tripped over his feet when he realized there was someone else here. Sitting on a soft gray couch and staring up at him with obvious curiosity. His throat closed up and he was fumbling for something to say or do while this person stared at him. Dolph failed to introduce them, so he had no clue who this someone was.

This _female_ someone. She was a pretty girl, a bit on the short side, and around their age from what he could tell. Her long black hair was pulled out of her face in a thick ponytail, sweater swallowing her hands and body. She wore mismatching socks, which were currently resting on the coffee table, tan legs disappearing under what appeared to be men's basketball shorts. There was a backward-facing baseball hat on her head and she was wearing limited makeup. Her eyes never left him, and she seemed to be taking him in the same way he was her.

Who was she? Why was she sitting on Dolph's couch like she owned it? Like she's been here a million times- probably had been. He swallowed a ball of disappointment and chose a seat in a comfy looking recliner. The girl rested her chin on her hands, her eyes narrowing slightly and a smile curling across her lips.

“I don't bite, you know.” Maybe it was rude to stare and then sit nearly across the room, but he didn't know her. Not even a name. So he shrugged and bit back a response about how he had no idea if she did or didn't. Because that was something he would say to a friend, which she wasn't.

He didn't know _what_ she was to him.

“I'm April. Most people call me AJ. You're...Mike?” Oh. She knew him?

“Yeah.” More staring. He was getting a bit uncomfortable now.

“You're a lot cuter than he let on.” He didn't even have time to process _that_ information before she was continuing on. “He mentioned you were a male dancer he's been training. I thought he meant stripper, since that's what you often call someone with that profession, but he clarified that you are a dancer working up at Fandango's. Which is so cool. I know a couple people who go there.” Dolph walked in finally, handing Mike his water first before handing off a bottle of ginger ale to April. He glanced between them for a moment, brows furrowed. 

“I'm sorry I didn't introduce you. April. Mike. Mike. April.” He checked his phone, still standing between Mike and April. “John should be back with the wings and pizza in a few minutes.”

“We were just talking, actually. Getting to know each other. Right, Mike?” Now two pairs of eyes were on him, so he nodded and sipped his water. He still knew nothing about her while she knew enough about him to recognize him. Or, maybe Dolph mentioned someone named 'Mike' was coming over? Whatever. It was better to not linger on that weird interaction and just focus on the reason he was here- football.

He waited for Dolph to finally sit down by her, maybe kiss her or something because he still had no clue what their relationship was, but the man merely stood there. Sipping his beer and watching the television. Since there was nothing interesting being talked about on the show, he let his gaze run over Dolph. Hopefully not too noticeably. 

His arms were crossed, beer dangling between his fingers, another jersey stretched across his shoulders. This one sported the name of a player they no longer had and was more faded than the brown one he saw Thursday. A hat sat backwards over his hair, which hung loose today instead of in a bun, and the scruff from that morning was missing.

“I don't know why they bother discussing all these teams. It's obvious the Pats are going to the Super Bowl. Again, might I add.” Oh, joy. She knew about football. Not that he cared or anything. He was happy with friendship. There would be no jealousy over girlfriends or anything catty like that. He was a mature adult man. He could do that.

“You only like them because you think Tom Brady is hot. Aren't you from Pennsylvania?” Mike diverted his attention back to the show, not interested in their banter or flirting or whatever it was they were doing. At least John would be joining them soon. “Mike was saying before how the Chiefs are looking murderous this year. Think they might take your boy's trophy.” 

“How can anyone bet against New England? You two know nothing!” A knock at the door saved him from having to say something, jumping up before Dolph could even blink and letting John in with a relieved huff of air. Pizza boxes were stacked in front of him, bags hanging from his arms, and he heard a grunt from behind the greasy boxes. Dolph joined them, shooting Mike a look that seemed to be asking what he was doing answering the door at someone else's house, and took some of the boxes. John followed them in, shouting a greeting to April as they passed onto the kitchen. 

It was far nicer than the one at the dorms he stayed at. Shiny black double oven. Stovetop on the island. The refrigerator was one of those smart fridges that told you what was inside and could play music while you cooked. The pizza was laid out on the island counter, boxes opened and plates handed out. While John rubbed his chin and looked from steaming pizza to heavenly smelling pizza, Dolph joined Mike by the pantry door.

“I wasn't sure what everyone would like, so I ordered a variety. I personally love meat on mine, but John is on this new vegetarian health kick and refuses to even look at chicken or sausage. And April prefers 'just cheese' like a psycho.” Speaking of, she walked into the kitchen and shouted at John to step away from her pizza. They bickered while placing slices on their plates, like children, and hurried off towards the living room.

Leaving Mike and Dolph. Since Dolph was apparently trying to be a good host and let everyone else go first, Mike wandered over and peered at the different options. There was one covered in green peppers. Another with sausage, bacon, and ham. A cheese. A pepperoni. And then a few smaller boxes with the wings. It was a lot of food for four people, but he figured the leftovers would last for a little while. Maybe he could take some back to the others.

“If you're unsure what to go with, the sausage, bacon, ham is great.” Their arms brushed, even with all the room, as Dolph grabbed a slice and took a bite. He wasn't really big on pizza, but he didn't mind pepperoni. He was definitely piling up on wings, though. He stepped around Dolph and snagged a few pieces of the pepperoni. “A decent choice. Oh, we better hurry up. The game is going to start.” After dropping a few wings on his plate, Dolph following suit, they made it back to the living room. John was sat in the chair Mike occupied earlier, handing a little cup of sauce to April, who apparently dragged one of the dining room chairs for her to sit on. 

He sat on the couch, Dolph dropping next to him almost immediately and setting his things on the table. They were just in time for kickoff, both of them shouting triumphantly as the catch was good and the Browns were starting. They were playing against Baltimore, a team that was a lot better than in past years, but they had their secret weapon now: their new quarterback.

“I feel like this is the game. _This_ is the one.” Dolph agreed, bumping against him as the game really got started. It was so much better watching a game here than the bar. Less noise. Room to relax if he wanted. Mike pushed his elbows into his knees, leaning over his plate on the coffee table. John and April made quiet conversation, and when he looked over at them to see what was so interesting, he found them not even watching the game. He knew John wasn't a fan of the sport, but April apparently knew her stuff. Why was she not watching?

Better yet, why was she not sitting with Dolph and arguing over team stats and teasing each other about teams? He's had girlfriends who liked football and they were always ready to ridicule him for loving the Browns (though they never minded wearing a jersey when it was time to watch the game with the boys). But April was acting like Dolph didn't even exist, and he wasn't exactly begging for her attention either. 

Then again, all his relationships were when he was younger. Maybe that's just how it was. Maybe that's how _they_ were. Who was he to judge?

When the game went to commercial, he excused himself and found his way back to the kitchen for a drink and maybe some more wings. He was dancing over ten hours a week and working out at the gym; he could afford to loosen up a little. He was crouched down by the waters, wiggling one out of the stupid plastic wrapping, when something kicked him in the butt. He nearly fell into the fridge, spluttering and just barely saving himself. 

“Graceless.” He tugged the water free and stood, glaring as hard as he could at that stupid smirk.

“I'll have you know I'm extremely grace _ful_ on the dance floor. Tripping over people or being pushed over do not count.” Dolph chuckled and leaned against the counter, empty plate on the counter and his bottle nearly empty. 

“Mhm. Keep making excuses, Mizanin. Mizzy.” He rolled his eyes and forked out a few more wings, aware of eyes on him. He turned to find Dolph raising both brows at him. 

“I think I'm allowed to eat. Stop looking at me like that!” The blow of a whistle could just be heard from where he stood, meaning the game was on. Why Dolph followed him in here he wasn't sure, but they were both going to miss something if they just sat there chatting like crows on a wire. 

“I'm just thinking of all the workouts I'm going to make you do on Tuesday. Each of those wings is fifty reps.” He picked up a wing and bit into it, not taking his eyes off Dolph's. The playful gesture turned oddly tense when Dolph didn't crack a smile, and did his eyes just flicker down to Mike's mouth? No. He was imagining it. Or misunderstanding. He cleared his throat and gestured for Dolph to get moving. They were missing the first quarter!

For halftime, everyone got up to roam around and stretch. Mike decided to step out on the little porch, breathing in the surprisingly fresh air. California wasn't really know for being clean. Maybe it was because it was cooler out? The door slid open behind him, John joining him with a pat on the shoulder. They bumped fists, John turning to lean on the railing. The city was alive below them, cars crawling along the road and people crowding the sidewalks. 

“I could get used to this nice weather, you know? On my birthday, it's usually fifty degrees and close to snowing. But this? Man, this is nice.” John hummed, wind playing with the ends of his hair as he stared out at the horizon.

“Imagine the beach party. The sand, waves, babes. Volleyball.” He did imagine for a few seconds. His birthday was coming up soon. He should probably figure out what he wanted to do for it. John's idea sounded good, though he wasn't exactly the biggest beach person there ever was. And it could still get a bit hot. 

“I haven't really thought about what I want to do for my birthday this year. I mean, I have classes that day, so that's a given. But I want to celebrate it California style.” This was where he turned to John, the one who grew up in California. In Los Angeles, actually. It was amazing they met; that they were best friends. John snorted, pushing away from the railing and shaking his head.

“Unless you like strippers, loud music, and drunk people, I don't think you want to do it Cali Style.” Well, Mike was not really the type. He could always go for what he normally did: a lunch or dinner with his friends, a dessert all for himself, and dancing around on a sleek wood floor for a few hours. Screwing around until his eyes were heavy and he was losing his voice. He rarely ever got drunk anymore, leaving that for his college days. Instead, there was sometimes karaoke. Video games. 

Lame, sure. But definitely his idea of a good time. He didn't care for partying once college was over for him.

“I'll throw you a surprise party, if you want. I'm pretty good at that.” Mike snickered.

“How is it a surprise if you tell me?” The door slid open, April poking her head out and glancing between them.

“The game is back on. Ziggles won't stop looking over here.” Dolph shouted something at her, the door shutting between them and cutting off his words. He turned to John, gesturing to where April disappeared.

“Who is she, anyway?” Surprise flickered across his face, John looking in through the clear glass with a frown.

“I'm surprised he didn't tell you about her, actually. They've been best friends for a long time. Since they were younger, I think.” He grinned. “They aren't dating.”

“I never suggested they were. I was just curious.” John shrugged.

“Well, apparently they tried dating a long time ago. Like...as kids. Barely in high school or something. But apparently it didn't work out.” He could see the game was playing, and that Dolph was looking between the television and the door every few seconds. It was probably rude of him to be sitting outside talking with John when Dolph invited him over to watch the game. Just like Mike was excited to finally have someone to really watch a game with, he figured Dolph probably felt similar. 

If he normally tried watching with John, he would be about as knowledgeable as Ty was. Except John wasn't gay or bi, and therefore didn't care if the players were cute or talk about how tight their pants were. He probably did more complaining than anything. 

“I'm not really surprised considering he's gay.” Hold up. Back it up. What?

“He is?” Now John laughed, loud and for longer than was necessary. It wasn't funny!

“You couldn't tell? Dude is pretty obvious. I had him pegged the day I met him. No, yeah. That dude is into other dudes. All the way.” He crossed his arms, peering into the living room with a sigh. “He has pretty terrible taste in men, though. Never met one I liked. They were all just lousy.” Okay, he was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the guy he has a crush on is apparently gay. As in, sexually attracted to men. Which Mike just so happened to be.

He never would have guessed. Bisexual with a female lean, maybe. _Maybe._

“Maybe he's obvious around you, but I've never seen anything that would make me think he could be interested in men.” It didn't have to mean anything for him, though. He was bisexual and was not attracted to every man or woman he met. And besides, Mike was not going to date him. Or sleep with him. So, this information was really not needed. But boy he was still surprised. Someone _that_ popular with women actually being into men was ironic in the best way.

“Dude, he is _obsessed_ with Britney Spears. Has gone to, like, every concert of hers. Bought every album– and won't open them. Haven't you seen any of those shirts he has? He made those! Well, he ordered them. But he made them on a t-shirt website.” Did he really design and buy a hot pink shirt and put _'Hit Me Baby One More Time!'_ in huge black block letters? Okay, yeah, that wasn't really 'Mister Heterosexual' to do. But still...

“John, that doesn't mean someone is necessarily gay.” The door slid open again, this time Dolph stepping out.

“You just missed a fucking awesome touchdown.” Yeah. Right. Probably time to get back inside. Put a pin in this conversation and leave it there for the rest of their lives because it didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. Dolph could be attracted to women, men, fire hydrants...it wasn't something he cared about. Beyond normal curiosity. Getting to know a new friend. Stuff like that.

When would it stop feeling like a lie?

“One I'm sure they are in the middle of overturning because they referees are bullshit.” To his delight, Dolph laughed and stepped back inside. The door was left open for them to obviously follow through, so he moved to do exactly that. Except...

“Mike.” John was oddly serious, his voice soft.

“Yeah?” Hesitation.

“Never mind. Let's go. Before he freaks out. I swear, he's like a nervous puppy.”

The class ended with most of the room on the floor, panting with sweat dripping onto the floors. 'Greedy' was a cakewalk compared to this freaking song and routine. The California style of dance was intense and dirtier than anything they did in New York. His knees hurt from dropping onto them so many times, and his hands were so sore from pushing on the hard floor. The instructor seemed satisfied, though, so there was that.

“Excellent job. Fandango has seen your progress, and of course observed your assessments, and has decided it's time to bring the classes together for the first time. See who can gel and who can't. This dance is similar to the one his students are currently learning. Over the next month, we will continue practicing this one and then introduce the one his classes are learning. By the end of November, you will be under his instruction, as well as the master students transitioning into instructors. Then we can begin learning the routines for the festival in March!” Excitement bubbled up in his chest. Finally! “Go. Rest. Don't forget tonight's class!”

Ty crouched next to his bag, digging through it while Mike pulled out his granola bar and water. His shoulders ached, his ass was going to be giving him trouble for at least a day, and his thighs were on fire. It was the best feeling in the world.

“That song is sexy as fuck. I'm adding it to my playlist.” He chuckled, stuffing his smelly shoes in the bag and sliding on his sandals. 

“Do you have songs on there that aren't fit for a bedroom playlist?” They followed after Dream and Summer, Lexi laughing at something Seth was saying a few feet ahead of them. Mella was missing, but he figured she was caught up with someone in the class. The lines were long gone, everyone getting along better than Nattie or Lana. Ty rolled his eyes.

“Obviously. I'm not a sex freak, Michael.” His phone pinged a few times in his pocket, texts from Dolph coming through as he stepped out into the sunlight. A vendor was selling frozen yogurt on the corner. “That lover boy?”

“Shut it.” Ty's teasing only worsened after he returned from watching the game at Dolph's place. Mike didn't really mind, knowing Ty was teasing because he cared, but he really despised that nickname. 

“Me thinks someone has a crush...” Haven't they already done this song and dance? Mike denies it. Ty fails to believe him. It gets boring after a while.

“I do not. He's just a friend. Like you. Or John. And Mella.” They stopped so Ty could get a cup of froyo, Mike stealing a spoonful while he was paying.

“One, I still don't believe you. There's no way you're excited for _yoga_ at six in the morning. On a _Sunday._ ” He pulled the cup away when Mike snagged another bite. “Two, I wasn't talking about you. I actually mean trainer boy. And while we're on the subject of people who are into you, I'm adding Mella to the list.”

“Now you're just crazy. The only person who is into me is you. And we know that's not happening.” They shoved at each other like children, another spoonful sliding down his throat when Ty was struggling to grab his bag. People were probably wondering why two grown men were fooling around like that, but he didn't care. They were having fun, enjoying their time in California while it lasted. Screw anyone who thought them weird or stupid.

“Duh I'm into all that, but you really think I'm the only one? Babe, you're a certified hottie. And this guy gets to see you all hot and sweaty while pumping the iron or whatever. Plus, he's invited you to his house. Taken you out for food. I mean, anyone can see he's interested.” They stopped so Ty could throw his trash away. “Please tell me he's into men in some way.”

“John mentioned something about him having shit taste in men.” Why did he say that? He really shouldn't fuel his stupid fire anymore. They began the ascent to their floor, his legs dying halfway up the staircase. 

“Excellent! Now I'm _certain_ he's into you.” Mike leaned against the wall while Ty unlocked the door.

“By your logic, I've been 'into' pretty much every friend I've ever had. Being a good friend doesn't mean someone is looking at you in that way. Besides, nothing will happen no matter what. I'm not interested in anything like that. Just dance. My career. Remember?” Ty tossed his bag into his room and collapsed on the couch. Mike flipped on the television and found a cooking channel. 

“You don't understand because you've been out of the dating game too long. Trust me.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, something coming back to him. He furrowed his brows.

“Wait, what do you mean Mella is into me?”

His birthday was a day away and he still had no idea what was going on. John was being really secretive and cryptic, Dolph wasn't mentioning anything, and Mike was itching to know what was going on. He hated secrets! Even good ones he knew would be fun for him. He just hated not knowing. 

Ty was not secretive at all. His plan for Mike's birthday was to drag him out to a fancy place and make people sing to him while candles sparkled on top of a massive cake like little fireworks. Then devour said cake while taking selfies, drinking bottles of champagne, and wandering down the street singing different songs at the top of their lungs. Typical Tyler Breeze type party. Each year, it got a little more insane somehow, but he certainly wasn't going to complain.

He wrapped his fingers around his foot, folding his upper body over his right leg and stretching out his hamstrings. Dolph joined him sometimes, others leaving him to cool down and hurrying off to do whatever it was trainers did once they finished with their clients. Today he was stretching half-heartedly across from him while reading over a chart or something. Iron clanging and treadmills running made up the playlist he worked out to because he still had yet to get his headphones out from where they were buried in one of his bags.

And, well, there was usually a bit of banter too. 

“Are you still feeling okay? Not too exhausted?” He shook out of his thoughts and switched legs, leaning down until his nose was barely brushing his knee. Fingers grabbed at his toes. Breathing in. Hold. Let it go. After a few seconds of breathing, he sat up and twisted his torso.

“I've been feeling really good, actually.” You know, aside from battling with having distracting feelings for someone he was also building a friendship with. And his friends were not helping with that at all. As much as he talked about how his only love was dancing and how it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, they had amnesia or were pretending he wasn't saying that and meaning it. That he was just saying he was in love with dance because he hadn't found 'the one' or whatever.

He did mean it, though. And one day, some time in the future, he would be open to dating again. But he wanted a career first. A chance to live his dream before searching for someone to make a commitment to. 

“Great. If you're set, I need to go. But don't forget to rest when you can. Drinking smoothies that can boost your energy. Maybe get a massage?” He may be dedicated to his future and career as a dancer, but he was also only human. Thoughts and emotions popped up without his consent. In this case, as he was folding his legs together (criss-cross applesauce, as they said in school as kids), a thought of _'Only if you're giving it to me.'_ came out of nowhere and grabbed his attention. 

He quickly stuffed it away before he could focus too hard on it; on the image of those hands on his warm naked skin. 

“Oh, I don't know if he's already messaged you, but John wanted to know if you were busy Tomorrow?” He had a morning class and a night stretching session, but otherwise he was good. 

“Did he mention why?” He figured it was for his birthday, but he was curious if John mentioned that to him. Dolph shook his head and shrugged, offering a hand to help Mike to his feet. Which he gladly took even though he really didn't need it. 

He was only human. 

“Guess I'll find out. I'll see you Friday.” Dolph smiled and disappeared into the gym, getting lost in the crowd of people working out or waiting to check-in. He bent down and pressed his hands into the floor, giving his back and hamstrings one last good stretch before standing tall and shaking it out. Loosened and sore as hell, he headed for the locker room. Digging his phone out, he checked for any messages from John, surprised to find none. 

On the drive back, he called his friend.

_”Hey, Mizrald!”_ He changed lanes, rolling his eyes.

“You know I hate that name.” John laughed. “Hey, I'm pretty sure you know my number. Why are you sending Dolph to find out if I'm busy tomorrow?” Part of him – a rather small part – wondered if Dolph made that up. If he was trying to, like, work up the nerve to ask him out or something. He knew being interested in men didn't mean being interested in _him,_ but he couldn't help the kernel of hope in his chest. 

One that was smashed by John's next words.

_”I knew he was seeing you today, and that you would be away from your phone for at least an hour. Figured it would be faster.”_ Oh. Of course. _“I'm going to text you an address tomorrow after your class. Get there. And wear something comfortable.”_ Curiosity burned in his chest, but he kept from begging John to tell him what was happening and instead ended the call with a goodbye and 'see you tomorrow'.

“You're kidding.” He shielded his eyes and stared up at the massive mountain and the trail that wound around it. John was dressed in hiking gear, hair pulled out of his face in a little bun. Mike thought he was kidding, but they were apparently going hiking. For his birthday. “I love you, Mo, but what the hell.”

“You love hiking, Mike. Besides, the views in California makes it all worth it. I promise. Come on. We don't have long. No one wants to get caught out here when the sun is setting.” He kept his comments to himself, following after John up the steep trail leading into certain doom. At least that's how he felt about it. 

They walked, chatting about life in California and New York, the different paths they've taken, people they dated, funny stories from their everyday life. Regular stuff. And as much as he hated to admit it, this wasn't a bad way to start off his birthday. John really did understand him and what he liked to do. 

An hour into it and John stopped for the third time, taking pictures of them on the trail and the skyline that was absolutely breathtaking from where they were. Mike pulled out a bag of trail mix and looked over the trail map while John was busy, planning their next few miles. 

“Hey, there's something I want to show you. Come here.” He turned to find John standing by a bunch of trees, pointing to it while waving him over. From where he was, he couldn't see what his friend was going on about, so he walked over and tried to look himself. When he failed to figure out what he was supposed to be seeing, he turned to John and raised a brow.

“A wall of trees?” 

“Go through it, idiot. That path there.” Mike grumped at him but did as told and went up the path.

And at the end of it? A party. 

“Surprise! Happy Birthday!” He didn't really recognize anyone, not at first, but then Ty and the others waved him over. Oh no. How did John find them? Why were they here?

Was Dolph around?

“Found them on Facebook since you refuse to let us meet. They were more than happy to help plan this. Are you surprised? You said I couldn't be, but I did. Didn't I?” John seemed proud of himself, so Mike hugged him and waved to everyone. “Dolph couldn't come. He's busy.”

He wasn't disappointed. Not at all. And the party ended up being pretty fun anyway. The view was spectacular, they took a million pictures, and there was plenty of food and treats. They played music from a stereo and people took turns dancing along to whatever someone played.

When the party started winding down, he found John and held out his fist for him to bump. Which he did with a laugh. People came by to wish him happy birthday one more time as they headed down the trail. He couldn't believe John had these people hiding up here – for who knows how long – to surprise him with party on his birthday. See? This was why John was his best friend. He understood Mike like few did.

“Thank you for this. I wish we could have done something for yours.” John only shrugged, waving to someone as they left. 

“We were both busy. Besides, you can just make up for it by taking me out and getting royally trashed another time.” Well, if there was one person he didn't mind drinking with, it was John. They shook on it and Mike went around collecting trash. Everything would need to be cleaned up after all.

“How did you even manage this? This is insane JoMo.” John and Ty remained, everyone else gone away.

“He had help, you know. I figured you would probably like this more than me dragging you to a male strip club and making you be our driver when we're too drunk to function.” Yeah. He got that right. 

“Well, thanks, Ty. I had a good time; better than babysitting your drunk asses all night and eating a cupcake by myself in the kitchen before midnight.” Ty pouted at him while John bent over in laughter. 

“That was _one_ time, Michael. Don't you dare give this California angel bad ideas about me.” He turned to John and _winked._ This was why he couldn't let him meet Dolph. The things he could say... “I promise I'm usually a very good boy.”

“And everyone who believes that raise your hand.” He left Ty gaping at him while John rolled his eyes and snickered, clearing off the table so they could get on with the day.

He read over the information one more time, checking times and dates to compare to his already tight schedule. Apparently there was a place in town looking for dancers to perform a charity show to raise money for homeless animals, and Dream knew Mike was a big fan of that. So, he brought the notice back and offered it to him while he was munching on cereal and reading a book he bought over a year ago and was finally able to dig into. 

He matched all the requirements, and the show was going to be on a day he didn't have a class in the evening. It was perfect. 

“Do you really want to be learning three routines all a the same time? That's a lot; even to me it sounds insane.” Mike collected the keys and slid on his sunglasses. It probably wasn't the best idea – in fact, Dolph warned him away from extra dancing specifically – but it sounded fun. Something different but still sharpening his skills as a dancer. 

And who knows? He could be noticed there. Supporting a charity he cared about and maybe getting a job opportunity? Mike wasn't one to sneeze at opportunity when it offered itself to him on a silver platter. 

“It probably isn't the best thing, but it's for charity, Ty. Besides, practices are mostly on you from what I can tell. So I can fit it in perfectly with class and the gym.” 

The routine ended up being easier than anything they were doing at Fandango's school and it was so much fun. The song was upbeat and catchy, the other dancers were super chill and helpful to each other, and the instructor was this electric personality that gelled well with Mike's. It was a dream situation for any dancer, and it breathed life back into him. Passion for dance. Love for the art of moving your body to the beat. 

It was exactly what he needed, and it didn't get in the way as much as he thought it would. 

The show was coming the first Thursday in November, which was only a week away. He was getting nervous because they were encouraged to invite their friends, and he was tempted to invite Dolph and John as well as Ty, Mella, Dream, Lexi, and Summer. But, despite the fact that John and his friends were now apparently pals on Facebook and Ty mentioned often he was messaging John – which already gave him anxiety – he still wasn't sure about having them all there together. Where he couldn't mediate. 

He munched on a grape while he was reading through the chapter of his book, Ty slipping into a seat next to him and peering at the page he was on. After a few minutes, Mike trying to focus on the words instead of whatever it was Ty wanted, his friend huffed and tried to peek at the next page. He snatched the book away and glared.

“Excuse me.” Ty leaned back and rolled his eyes.

“You read so fucking slow, Miz. My dog could read faster.” He closed the book and threw a grape at Ty's face.

“You don't have a dog.” Ty sighed as dramatically as possible, stealing a slice of cheese from his plate and kicking his feet up on the table. “What do you want? I'm busy.”

“I want to know if you're inviting that tall hottie and your muscle hottie to the big charity show. I'm pretty sure we hit it off, and this is the chance to have your boy see you do your thing.” He still couldn't be sure if Ty was actually interested in John, or if he was just teasing Mike because he knew it made him uncomfortable. Honestly, it was probably both. 

“You know he's straight, right? And what happened to your big plan with 'Dango?” Socked feet nearly broke his nose. He swatted them away and moved to get up, maybe shower, but Ty stopped him before he could get away.

“There have been plenty of 'straight' men who have fallen to this charm. I'm sex appeal in human form, babe. How you're able to resist ravaging me I still have to figure out.” Why was he friends with someone so dramatic and idiotic? His brain cells were jumping ship the longer they had this conversation. “As for Fandango, all in due time. A snake waits for the right moment to strike.”

“So, you're a snake? Called it.” Ty slammed his hand on the table and dropped his feet to the floor so he was sitting up properly. Mike ate another grape and rolled his eyes.

“Shut up. Stop ignoring my question. As much as you try to pretend you don't care about anything other than dancing your heart out on stage, I know you want him there.” One day, this would be a memory and he wouldn't have to hear Ty's bitching anymore. Four months more.

“He's busy.” Technically, it wasn't a lie. Dolph would probably be busy on a Thursday night. But Ty didn't seem to agree with that.

“You're telling me he couldn't spare an hour? Come on, Mike. Try harder.” Maybe he could, but Mike couldn't ask that. They were adults with _jobs._ Dolph had clients who depended on him being there to help them, not off attending charity shows because Mike wanted him to.

Which, he did. But not if he could end up having his crazy friends all over him. Harassing him with stupid or weird questions that made him regret ever going or meeting Mike or anything. 

“I'm not lying, Ty. His work-”

“-can be rearranged if he wants to. You think I don't know how his job works? Come on, Mike. Give me _some_ credit. I bet you haven't even asked him.” And he wasn't going to. 

“Look, John can't come because he has...actor things to do. And my trainer is busy.” Now his friend just stared at him.

“You're telling me your best friend from your childhood wouldn't make time to come see you do something you love? Come on, Mike. That's ridiculous.” He stole another grape, giving him an amused look. “As for mister sexy, you're telling me the man who makes all this time for you, invites you to his house to hang out, and invites you on these dates to 'watch games' suddenly wouldn't care enough about you having a show to change his schedule. I bet he would love to come watch.”

Maybe he would, but Mike couldn't let it happen. All of this would fade away to nothing anyway. In four months, they would be in New York. Moving forward with life.

“I'm sure he really has better things to do than drive out here and watch the show. This isn't your romance novel; this is real life. We're all adults with jobs.” Ty merely laughed.

“Those are some pretty words, Michael, but you're not really convincing me of anything.” He shifted his gaze to his hands for a moment. “I know you think I'll embarrass you somehow. That's I'll do something to scare him away. But Mikey, I know how important they both are to you now. How much this show means. I would never ruin it on purpose. I care about you, and whatever makes you happy? I'm not going to mess it up. I promise.”

“Ty-”

“No. Stop. Let me finish. I know we have this...dynamic. We tease each other and fuck with each other. But this is different. You are excited for the show, so I'm going to be on my best behavior. I swear it. And you can pretend with me and everyone else – maybe even with yourself – that you don't have a crush on your trainer, but I know you. I know you want him to be there because you care about him.” Mike didn't bother denying it, because Ty was right anyway. Feelings or not, he wanted all his friends there to support a good cause. To have a good time. He loved performing for them, and he would love to believe everything would be okay if Dolph and John came.

But it was a risk he wasn't sure he wanted to make. He could invite John – who probably heard all about this insane obsessive crush he had on his trainer – but that would only get back to Dolph and possibly hurt his feelings. He didn't want to do that.

“Ty, I appreciate that. I do. I'll...I'll think about it, okay?”

Unfortunately for him, he let it slip that he was having a show. Dolph was going over the schedule again, assessing his energy levels and addressing any health concerns, while Mike leaned against the wall and sipped on his water. Totally not checking him out or anything. He was a big boy.

“So, the schedule is still the same?” He sighed as the cool water refreshed him.

“Yeah. I mean, Thursday I have this show I'm doing, so I might be a little sore Friday. But otherwise I'm good.” Dolph nodded along, but Mike was kicking himself. 

“For Fandango's?” He toed the ground, keeping his eyes away from watchful blue ones.

“Actually, it's a charity show. Supporting animals in shelters. It's nothing huge or anything. Just a basic choreography to entertain people who come to watch.” Someone stop him. 

“Is that open to anyone? I happen to love animals. And being entertained.” Exactly what he was afraid of. How could he explain to Dolph he didn't want him there because Ty would be there?

Answer? He couldn't. Guess he had no choice...

“Yeah. They really encouraged us to invite our friends because the admission price goes directly to the charity.” Dolph shifted and tilted his head. After a moment, his brow arched. 

“So, it would be cool for me and John to show up?” It wouldn't, but he couldn't think of a way to say that without making it look like he didn't want Dolph there. Or John. It wasn't true, so he cleared his throat and nodded, trying to smile convincingly. Less like 'baby with gas'. 

“Feel free. Just make sure you dress nice. It's a nice venue.”

The show was incredible. They were the headline act, but the others before them were just as amazing; maybe more so in some ways. Their number was received with thunderous applause, and for a moment he imagined what it would be like up on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans while an artist sang their song. 

It was everything he was working for. He couldn't wait for it. It was like getting a taste of the frosting before the cake was served; it made him hungry for more. 

“You _killed_ it, Mikey!” Ty pulled him into a tight hug despite how sweaty he was, hands clapping him on the back and someone rubbing his head. They were acting like he just won the Super Bowl rather than dance for charity. He pulled back out of Ty's embrace, accepting a kiss on the cheek from Summer, Lexi, and Dream, then waved them off as he stumbled back.

“Thanks, guys.” He was surprised to find John and Dolph weren't around, though he was also immensely pleased. No awkward conversations or apologizing. Apparently he worried and stressed for nothing. Ty winked and dragged everyone to the bar near the back of the venue, and Mike went on his way trying to find his missing friends.

And when he found them, he nearly collapsed onto the floor. In front of everyone.

John looked amazing, as he usually did, sleek black tuxedo hugging his taller frame perfectly. His hair was slicked back in a smooth bun, his smile dazzling as he chatted up a few people around him. Everyone hanging on his every word like he was Gandhi or something.

Everyone except Dolph, who was leaning against the wall and staring at the ceiling above him.

Mike saw him in loose tanks in a rainbow of vibrant shades. He saw him in fitted t-shirts that made his arms look massive. In sweats, band t-shirts, hats, buns...but none compared to seeing this masterpiece. Black dress pants that hugged his legs and ass, leaving little to the imagination. A crisp baby blue dress shirt popped open at the top, sleek black tie loosened but still tucked neatly under the collar. On his arm was his blazer, a watch glistening in the light as he stood there. He couldn't see Dolph's hair, but he imagined it was pulled up in a similar fashion to John's. There was fuzzy facial hair along his jaw, making him look more rugged and somehow more manly than he already looked.

Which was a lot. Too much for his blood pressure.

He had to breathe for a minute, and he considered hitting the bar for a shot of courage. No. This venture was probably better taken with a clear mind. Alcohol only made a mess of things. 

“Mikey!!” He let John pull him in, arms wrapping around him tightly. When they separated, he found Dolph was no longer against the wall, standing there and bent on killing him. Did the shirt have to match his eyes? Were there tiny skulls on his tie? Why was his hair so perfect?

His life was unfair. Whoever was watching him from above apparently loved to torture him. 

“Dude, that was crazy.” A hand clasped his, yanking him in so they bumped into each other and slapping a hand on his back. Typical friend greeting, but his stomach was exploding in butterflies. His head was swimming like he was well on his way to being drunk, even though there was no drink in his hand or alcohol in his system

Just someone too gorgeous for their own good. 

“Thanks for coming out.” Dolph only beamed at him, blazer now thrown over his shoulder and leaning into his right. John was busy with a few people, sharing some ridiculous story that was mostly true, Dolph and Mike watching him go for a few minutes before an elbow jabbed him in the rib. 

“He's going to be busy. After this, he has to go to a job. Want to go get some celebratory drinks?” His smile dimmed a little, tugging on his tie. It really wasn't right how that stupid shirt looked on him. And he had a few ideas of where it could look even better.

Not that he was going there. Nope. 

“I'm sure you've got plans with the crew. John said they were here, but we didn't find them.” Thankfully. He shook his head, placing a hand on his hip and leaning more into his left hip. His feet were killing him, and he had to smell like a locker room. Oh man, what he was wearing. 

“I'd love to, but I first need to change. And shower. I can meet you there? Just text me the place.” Dolph agreed and, with a passing look to John, he followed Mike out into the cool evening. Autumn was definitely settling in, chill nipping at his bare shoulders and prickling goosebumps along his skin. They parted, nerves eating at his stomach the entire Uber ride to the dorms. 

He couldn't help but think something was about to change. That something was going to go so terribly wrong. But it was obviously his anxiety playing with him, so he stepped into the shower and let it run off his skin and down the drain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter has it's own song, but I wanted to say the 'theme song' of this whole thing is 'Boys Like You' by Who is Fancy. Love that song.
> 
> And if anyone knows a fitting song with California in the title, I'll take it. ( **UPDATE 4/22:** Found one!!)


	5. Domino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Rock my world until the sunlight._
> 
> _Make this dream the best I've ever known_
> 
> _Dirty dancing in the moonlight_
> 
> _Take me down like I'm a domino_
> 
> _Every second is a highlight_
> 
> _When we touch, don't ever let me go_
> 
> _Dirty dancing in the moonlight_
> 
> _Take me down like I'm a domino."_
> 
> "Domino" by Jessie J

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention this chapter does contain mature scenes, but there is nothing explicit and it is mostly implied. :)

After quickly changing into a much nicer outfit, he arrived at the chosen bar and pulled his phone out to send a message to Dolph. He wasn't really one for drinking, but a couple wouldn't hurt. Besides, he was celebrating the massive success of the show he did. The money raised for the charity. Having his friends all in the same place and none of them running into each other. 

Not _dying_ the second he found John and Dolph. This was a night worth celebrating!

“Hey! There you are.” Dolph set his drink down and greeted him with a hug. Warm. Tight. Friendly. Another one of those and he might actually combust into flames. And seeing as they were surrounded by alcohol, which so happened to be extremely flammable. So he kept some healthy distance and ordered a drink, taking a look around the establishment. It was nicer than he expected, many people wearing ties and heels. How _Hollywood._

“This is a nice place.” Dolph chuckled, bringing the glass to his lips. He wondered briefly what he was drinking, but banished it from his thoughts, drowning it in the liquid fire burning down his throat. Celebration. They were celebrating! 

“John showed it to me, actually. You know how classy he is.” Mike examined his glass, trying not to make it so obvious he was averting his gaze on purpose.

“Uppity as long as I've known him. The kid is LA through and through.” Conversation passed between them easily after that, minutes folding into an hour of laughter and drinks. It was nice. Stories of home; of family; of trials chasing dreams; of things they wanted to do in life before it all ended in the grand finale. 

Caught up in the moment, he didn't realize three glasses were already finished until he turned to order another. His glass hit the counter harder than he intended, and while he felt warm and like he could float away, he knew this would only lead to headaches and problems in the morning. 

At least it was a Thursday night. The next morning would be spent recuperating from the mess he was getting himself into. And since he was here with Dolph - his trainer - he could safely say their training session was canceled for tomorrow morning. Because the man was steadily on his way to drunk.

It took around an hour for something to finally go wrong. Not in, like, a horrible way, even if he tried to pretend it was. Ty would be pleased if he knew. But Mike was not his aggressively sexual best friend. This was probably the worst thing that could happen, and he really should not have finished that third drink. Ordered a fourth.

Because of all the things he could ever expect to happen, this was not it. 

If he stopped for a second and really thought about it, though, he wouldn't at all be surprised by the outcome of this celebratory drink. Alcohol was like Kerosene on a bonfire, and he was a constant burning fire. It's why he hated drinking; it caused nothing but trouble.

Setting down his empty glass, he found eyes blue as a flame – flickering and burning across his skin – watching his movements. There was a certain...weight in that gaze; one that had him itching to get away. Run as far and as fast as he could, because they screamed 'danger'. Yet he couldn't, ensnared in their magnetic pull. There wouldn't be an escape. His defenses were too weak. 

Still, he wasn't going to just roll over. He called for the tab, finishing his drink with a satisfied sigh and pushed it away from him. If there was a time to get far from those alluring eyes and the man with 'temptation' written all over him, it was now. It was his one shot, his one chance, to keep from making a mistake. No matter how badly he wanted to.

Since that first day in the gym, he knew he was going to regret not walking away. But he believed in the lies his confidence and ego told him, and he crumbled under the whispers of his humanity. Mike should have walked away, said forget it and just stayed with what he had. But he didn't, and if he wasn't careful right here, right now, he could – no, would - ruin everything.

He was an idiot and a fool. Even now, in this bar, too much alcohol and not enough sense left, he was trying to pretend he could win this war. Like he stood a chance when in reality he lost the second he decided not to leave the gym that Tuesday morning in September.

“So, you do all these... kinds of, like... dances, yea?” There were still two swallows remaining of Dolph's drink, the ice just starting to melt into the amber liquid and watering it down. The tab came, and he was tempted to pay and leave, but Dolph was watching him closely, slowly swirling the liquid in his glass. 

Five minutes. Five more and then he would leave.

“I did different things when I first started out. To see what I liked to do.” Apparently, that was the most intriguing thing Mike's ever said, Dolph nodding along and looking like he was trying to puzzle through a difficult math problem.

“Mhmm. So, did you ever do something a little more daring?” What? Daring? What was he talking about? “Maybe a little un...uncomventon...ugh. Something, you know, different?” His normally perfect speech was slurred by his now...five drinks. The lopsided smile he offered, coupled with the look in his eyes, sent a hurricane of butterflies into his chest. 

Oh how stupid he was. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“What are you talking about?” Those blue flames were threatening to burn him alive, to rip the skin from his bones. A kind of hunger he's never seen on display before- and so openly. He was pretty sure anyone looking would turn away, scandalized. Mike fiddled with one of the empty glasses, spinning it with his fingers, while he waited for Dolph to explain what the hell he going on about.

“C'mon! You know what I'm talking about!” His voice was higher in pitch and louder than normal. Probably a sign they needed to get out of there and head their separate ways. But, of course, Mike didn't do what any _intelligent_ person would do. “ _Strippers!_ I've known different dancer-type guys...people... here, And most of them at least _took_ a pole dancing classes or something. So, did you do stuff like that?” He barely had a chance to be embarrassed by how raucous Dolph was speaking, nor the way he just casually asked if he ever _stripped professionally,_ before he was rolling on, dragging his gaze over Mike.

“I could see it.” _Okay._ This was nothing like he expected. His mind couldn't even process what was happening because it just didn't seem real. Was Dolph really asking him about stripping – and implying he was hot enough to do it and be successful at it – or was this his imagination playing tricks on him? Nothing was making sense anymore. Was he drunk and imagining things?

Though he was pretty certain Dolph wasn't really looking for an answer, he snorted. “Nah. Not really for me, man.” Dolph shook his head like he was disappointed, offering a sideways look while he finished his drink.

“Too bad. I bet women would love you.” His glass struck the counter, ringing around inside Mike's head like a bell, and he winked. _Winked._ “Men too.”

Okay, Mike wasn't an idiot. Well, not totally. Not when it came to this, at least. He was making sense of everything – honestly he would probably be more perceptive if he skipped out on the drinks - and this line of questioning didn't seem to have anything to do with an interest in his dancing history. Not with the tone coloring his words. The way he was being watched – stared at – shivers running down his skin and his hair standing up on end. The world around was lost to the shimmering blues. The way his head was tilted just so.

Absolutely stunning, even glassy-eyed and flushed from the drinking. Yeah, Mike was a goner the moment they met, and all this avoiding and pretending was a silly waste of time.

“Oh, um, well, thanks. But, um. Ahem.” The air crackled and snapped between them, electricity coursing through his blood and short-circuiting his thoughts. Check. Right. They needed to get out of there. Now. Dolph stepped close, nearly enough for their lips to brush, a shiny black card popping up between them. Pressing the cool plastic briefly against his bottom lip and following the motion with his eyes.

“My treat.” Shivers ran down his spine as the card pressed harder before being handed off flippantly, Dolph not even sparing the man a glance. Alcohol made some people fighters, others criers. Mike, if he ever got seriously drunk, was loud and the type to rip his shirt off and dance on tables. Apparently, none of those were the case for Dolph. If there was a flirtation meter, he would have broken it in the last few minutes.

And now that he thought about it, the entire time they were talking too. He just didn't notice because it wasn't so... blatant. Now, however, he was basically throwing himself at Mike. Which was probably a good idea considering he could be dense and dropping hints just didn't work with him.

Hands found his waist, fingers skimming against his heated skin and could someone please dump a bucket of cold water on him? Something to put out this fire threatening to take over him. If he couldn't read the signs before, well, this one was screaming neon. When Dolph's gaze flicked up to meet his, something finally snapped and he dragged them out into the night.

He figured the cab ride would be heated and rather inappropriate for still being relatively in public, but other than the close proximity and smirk just shy of his skin there was nothing. Well, and the tension still heavy in the air. The taxi driver probably drove all kinds of sexed-up people from bars and hotels, but it still had him ducking his head in embarrassment when he wished them a safe night and took off down the street.

“Think I'll be taking lead on this dance. If you don't mind.” Mike swallowed again, his throat _so_ dry. His senses were turned up to eleven and he was close to combusting on the spot. That arrangement was perfectly fine with him; he was fine with _any_ arrangement at this point. So long as he got those hands on his skin again. So long as they ended up inside this building, hopefully empty, and on a surface of some sort. He wasn't too picky at the moment.

“Mhm.” Words. English. Nothing he learned in his thirty years of life was accessible at the moment. Nope, only sounds and waves of lust and longing. If something didn't happen soon...

“Follow me, then. Magic Mike.” He was pretty sure he looked nothing like Channing Tatum, and he was also certain he couldn't _do_ anything the man did in that movie. But he didn't care too much at the moment. Not when blue eyes – a chilling and hypnotic silver under the moonlight – were pulling him along like a fishing line. Not when Dolph hit the door, never once letting his gaze fall, and pulled him in close by his tie. Whispering where his keys were and then arching against him while Mike fished them out and pressed them into waiting hands. 

The door swung open and then Dolph's devilish smile was swallowed by the darkness. Mike hesitated a second, steadying himself and trying to shake off the nerves crawling under his skin. With a breath, he followed cautiously into the dark. The door slammed shut behind him and he was pushed against it, doorknob digging into his back. His mind was a little occupied with the hot kiss he was currently tangled in to care. As far as first kisses go, well... He couldn't complain.

Hands found a place on either side of his head, the heat of his skin hovering just millimeters away. So close. Mike was too hot, a fever scorching him inside out. His clothes were suffocating him, flames licking up his skin and burning where it touched. Lips and teeth skated along his jaw and down his throat, the delicate skin there sensitive and making him whimper involuntarily. His own hands found a place in belt loops of snug dress pants, jerking them closer when he tired of the teasing brush of hips. Dolph laughed against his skin, brushing his nose along the column of his throat before pulling away. It was too dark to see even an inch in front of his face, so he wasn't sure what was happening. What Dolph was thinking or feeling.

All he knew was he was too worked up to stop now. He could only pray it wasn't over yet.

Hands came out of the dark and glided over his chest, fingers curling until fingernails scraped against him as they ran back down. The sensation made him gasp, his body yearning to get closer. To mold himself with this... unearthly being. Because there was no way a mere human was as gorgeous and sensuous as him. It just- it wasn't possible. Dolph was like a siren, singing a song only Mike could hear, and it was just pulling him along like no problem. No fight. No care. Right into the rocky shore.

“Come with me.” He was tugged off the door by the front of his shirt. Through the dark and silent apartment. Hands finally pushed him down onto the couch, a huff escaping his lips while footsteps disappeared and then a lamp flicked on. The pale yellow light didn't do this man justice, but at least they could see each other again. 

The dress shirt Dolph wore was unbuttoned at the top, the red flush of his chest obvious even in the dim lighting. His lap was straddled, lips once again attacking his while hands explored his shoulders. Chest. Teased his belt. He felt helpless, unable to do more than kiss back as fiercely as he could manage. Strong thighs had him pinned to the couch and a surprising wave of desire coursed through his veins. He couldn't touch. Couldn't move. Could only accept what was happening. 

It was an odd feeling, being so trapped and helpless, but he found he didn't mind it too much. Still, his fingers curled into the couch, his nails catching and dragging against the soft fabric. 

His tie – one he got as a present from his mother – was tugged off in jerking movements, their kiss momentarily broken while it was removed and tossed somewhere. Neither of them bothered to check where it landed, too wrapped up in each other to care about such things. Fingers found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with little care or struggle, which was surprising considering how much he drank. 

Mike wriggled until his hands were freed, sliding them up dress slacks digging into the warm muscle hidden just underneath. A moan rumbled against his lips, hips shifting against his, and then he was yanked up off the couch and dragged further into the apartment. He suddenly remembered – albeit vaguely - Dolph lived with someone, but he couldn't recall who. Nor could he care enough to try.

He just hoped they weren't home. 

“Let's test that stamina of yours, Dancer.” He was shoved back, flopping a little gracelessly onto the bed because he was caught off guard. As he has been the entire night, actually. He's never seen this part of the apartment before. Dolph removed his own dress shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him and coming closer. Geeze it was so unfair how the dude looked. Like he was carved from marble. Painted and crafted by the Greek gods themselves. Mike sat up to meet him, finally taking a little offense and trailing his mouth across hard muscle. Hands curled around the back of his neck, fingers trailing into his hair and a pleased sigh escaping into the room.

It didn't take long for those fingers to find their way back to his shirt, Mike taking a detour over round shoulders as Dolph finished undoing buttons and then tugged it off his body like it was disgusting him. Then he was pushed back, that stupidly perfect body hovering over his and eyes searching. Hazy but uncertain. He trailed his hands up Dolph's spine, marveling at the way his eyes closed and breath shuddered.

So affected. So hot. It was _really_ unfair. 

“You're unfair.” Brows crinkled down at him, mouth opening like he was going to speak and then closing quickly. He shook his head, hair falling around his face, and instead sat back. There were only a few layers between them, so there was no hiding the effect the night was having on Mike. The clouds over Dolph's eyes cleared, his head tilting back and hips shifting ever so slightly. Still enough to send a jolt of lightning through Mike's entire body. Blood rushed south and left him dizzy.

“All's fair in love and war.” 

The moonlight fell across tanned skin rather artistically, further convincing him that Dolph just wasn't real. That he was a spirit sent to torment Mike; or maybe tempt him. Test him. Whatever the reason, whatever the trick, he was failing miserably. And truth be told, he didn't care. Fingers skated along his sweaty skin, tickling him as they went and sending shivers through his body. There was music playing softly from the desk, a song he didn't recognize, and the scent of musk heavy in the air.

“It's late.” Mike felt around until his watch was found, tossed to the corner of the bed, and angled it towards the faint light. Well past midnight. He groaned and dropped his arms out on either side of him. The fingers were gone and Dolph rolled away, sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching around on the floor. It would be nice to soak in the bliss for another few minutes – maybe wake-up in this bed – but he knew better. This wasn't supposed to mean anything. Just weeks worth of sexual tension finally exploding; with the help of some liquid courage.

It was better this way. No one could get hurt. Everyone left the table happy. 

Once they were both dressed, Dolph into snuggly sweats that tugged on his heartstrings, they made their way back to the living room area. He wasn't really trying to linger, knowing his trip to the dorms was somewhat long, and there was no reason he should expect to be asked to stay any longer than necessary, but he still had the feeling he was being hurried out the door. Dolph kept a hand at his back, nearly dragging him to the door and barely refraining from pushing him out into the night. There must still be quite a bit of alcohol in his veins because he turned back and stopped Dolph from shutting the door completely. Eyes peered from around the door and then he was able to see the man fully again. 

“Be safe, Mizanin.” It wasn't special. It wasn't an admission of love or anything even close to that. But it still warmed Mike through, tricking his brain into moving him forward and pressing a lingering kiss into his mouth. He pulled away and stumbled towards the elevator before Dolph could utter a word. It took a few tries to hit the button right, alcohol and exhaustion screwing with his coordination, but he managed it and stepped through the reflective silver doors. He turned just as the doors were closing, not expecting to see anything but a closed black door and gold '34B', but instead he found Dolph watching after him. And like an idiot, he waved goodbye.

Tomorrow was going to be hell, but at the moment? 

He couldn't really find himself caring about much more than the wave he received in response to his own enthusiastic waving. His chest was loose and warm, his skin clammy but tingling from where lips, teeth, and hands went to work. Nope. He was feeling too good to worry about how bad tomorrow would be. 

Morning was usually hell for him anyway. There was nothing good about chirping birds or the chill that hung in the air no matter the time of year. If it were up to him, he would stay in bed until well into the afternoon. Wrapped in blankets, his favorite shows on the TV mounted to his bedroom wall, and his cat snuggled next to him snoring softly. 

That was his ideal morning.

Most mornings were torture for him, but today? This particular morning was excruciating. His eyes were crusted over, his skin felt disgusting, his head was pounding, and he wasn't in his own king-sized bed back in New York. No, he was in California with a hangover and no one but Ty to comfort him.

He hated his life.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Actually, it's nearly noon now.” What? He turned to find his phone, grunting when the device was tossed at him. Now the room was spinning and anything he ate yesterday was about to make a curtain call. All over his bed. Arms guided him to the bathroom, hands rubbing soothing circles on his back until he was finished. After resting his fevered skin against the cool porcelain, he allowed Ty to help him back up, leaning on him until he could fall into bed once more. He felt like absolute shit.

“What happened to you? I tried to find you because everyone wanted to go celebrate, but you were gone. And then you came in last night at almost two in the morning and woke everyone up with your banging and stomping.” He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to simultaneously block out the sun and gather his thoughts, which were scattered all over the place. 

Last night. Last night... Right. The bar. Dolph. Oh, man. 

“I went out for drinks with a friend. Lost track of time. I feel like hell, man.” Ty ran his hands over Mike's hair, and when he opened his eyes to look, he found Ty watching him like a concerned mother. Yeah, no. He didn't need this right now. Pulling the covers up over his head, he turned so he was facing away from Ty and curled into a fetal position.

“Well, that _friend_ called about thirteen times.” What?! And Ty had his phone... “I answered the fourteenth. He asked if you were okay and told me to let you know today's session was canceled because he was also hungover. He did sound pretty bad. Still hot, though. I'm sure he left voicemails for you to listen to.” Mike kicked him, the impact weaker than he intended because he was worn-out and unwell.

“Well, what did you say back?” Ty snickered. If he wasn't so incapacitated at the moment, he'd shove him.

“Firstly, I finally got his name. I'm Facebook and Instagram stalking him later. Secondly, I told him you were sleeping and that I would take very good care of you. Then we said goodbye. Aren't you proud? I didn't even mention you wanted to do dirty things to-” This time, Mike threw off the covers and smacked Ty with a pillow. It hurt to move like that, but it was worth the stabbing pain in his chest and stomach. Ty merely laughed.

“Anyway, I'm sure you aren't hungry, but I went out and got you some Gatorade. And extra waters.” His teasing turned sincere, hands brushing through his hair again. “I'm happy you're having a good time now. You've been so stressed out and uptight. Just be safe, okay? Don't do anything I would probably do.”

Too late on that one, though he was not about to mention what happened after the bar last night. Ty pressed a kiss to his head and left him to rest. Which he really wanted to do, except now he had to see if Dolph said anything else. If he missed anything while in his little coma. 

“Knock. Knock.” He chuckled while swiping through his notifications. 

“Who's there?” Mella poked her head in, Lexi close behind. The rest of the crew piled into the room, surrounding his bed. Acting like he was just in major surgery or something. He was _hungover._ Not dying.

He sat up and accepted a water and Gatorade, glancing at everyone's eager expressions. Ah, they wanted the story. Well, they were getting the same version as Ty because they didn't need to know every part of his life, okay?

“I had drinks. I stayed out too late. I'm hungover but fine. No questions.” Mella hopped next to him, scratching nails over his scalp. 

“Didn't you go with that trainer of yours?”

“No, it was definitely that hot best friend of his. The actor.” Lexi clicked her tongue.

“We're here to make him feel better.” He was just about to thank her when she winked. “He'll get the third degree later.” Yeah, that was fair. He wasn't giving up anything, but he expected them to be curious, and he wouldn't blame them for asking.

“Thanks, guys. Really. You're the best friends I could ask for. And I'm sorry I was an asshole before.” Ty reappeared, smirking.

“I knew getting laid would soften you up.” Every eye in the room turned back to him, wide and full of questions. He flipped Ty off and shooed everyone out so he could shower and change. His whole body ached, and when he undressed in the bathroom, he looked in the mirror and burst out laughing. 

It looked like his cat attacked him while naked. Yikes. 

His friends pestered him for details; especially Ty, who was convinced he definitely had sex and was holding out. Which, he was. But he wasn't telling Ty that. It was a one-time thing and it was better to just...pretend it didn't happen in the first place. 

That would work for about two days. But what was his plan going to be for Sunday? Should he cancel? Would that seem weird? Maybe he was supposed to act as nothing happened at all. Just go back to how things were before Thursday night. Which was fine. It was yoga. He's been handling that pretty well for the past few weeks. Maybe it would all be okay. Yeah. Things would be perfectly fine.

Okay. He remembered, vaguely, telling Ty how yoga was a spiritual – and _not_ a sexual – experience. There was nothing to be desired about stretching and breathing while shivering on a beach before the sunrise in sweatpants and a shirt that wouldn't stop sliding over his head no matter how many times he tucked it in. He remembered saying these things, but today he realized just how wrong he was. It was like the blinders he was wearing before were gone. Like now he could truly see, and what he saw?

Literally everything was driving him crazy- and it wasn't even eight o'clock yet! That soothing voice dancing over the waves. The impossible poses demonstrated with practiced ease. The delicious definition of arms, legs, and stomach. He wasn't even cold this morning because he was so hot under the collar. How could he possibly notice that nip in the air when there was a fever burning just beneath the surface? Winter was coming and to him it felt like it was a July afternoon.

His only goal at this point was to keep Dolph from noticing how frustrated he was becoming. They had a one-time thing Thursday. Blowing off steam. Done. Over. He couldn't expect anything else from the man, and he didn't want it anyway. They took care of the brewing sexual tension between them and now things could be good. Easy. Friendly. And once his body got the memo, it would be fine.

Yoga was not supposed to be sexy – to turn you on – but it was doing one hell of a job today. Even the sandy beach and thin yoga mats weren't dissuading his thoughts now. He dug his teeth deep into his bottom lip, trying to regain control of his wandering mind and focus back on breathing. Tried to get lost in the lilt of Dolph's 'yoga voice'. But it was too late. There was a hot pulse, this driving urge, that wouldn't let him go.

“And we fall into Child's Pose. Balasana. Five deep belly breaths.” Normally, his easy instructions and soothing voice ran over him like cool water. Pleasant. But today, all that happened was him being reminded of the night that seemed like a lifetime ago. He had to muffle a groan, try to disguise it as a grunt, but it didn't stop his body from reacting inappropriately. Geeze. This was just embarrassing.

Hoping to dispel the feeling, he snorted and made a joke. “I knew you were one of those guys who just knows the real names of different yoga poses. And actually uses them.” 

“You're not breathing.” Yeah, fine. Spoilsport. He tried using the breaths to focus his mind on anything besides the itch crawling over his skin, but all that happened was his back arching, chest pressed into the mat, and tingles running down his body. Fan-fucking-tastic. 

“Now we sit up for mindful meditation and cleansing breaths. Sukhasana.” They moved at the same time, Mike opening his eyes while Dolph kept his closed. The sun was bleeding out across the waters, golden rays skimming across the wet sand and caressing Dolph in its sweet light. Damn it. This was not fair. 

He trailed his gaze over the man, unable to stop seeing flashes of what was hidden under thick sweats and a vibrant orange tank. Rippling muscle. Tanned skin that was splattered with blush as Mike dragged nails down his chest and over defined abs. Honestly who had real six-pack abs? 

He was caring less and less about all the reasons he really shouldn't. Why it was a really bad idea to have sex on the beach. Why he shouldn't be thinking of this at all. Because if Dolph was game, he was ready to play. Alcohol or not. Cold morning on a public beach or not. It wasn't going away, and he didn't want to leave frustrated. He might go crazy.

Quietly as he could manage, he crawled over to Dolph's mat, sitting back on his heels to wait. This close, he took in the scruff growing in along his jaw, the brown roots mixed with the blonde ends in a braid he had his hair tied into, the full eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks. Everything in him yearned to move closer, to touch and take, but he forced himself to wait.

“Namaste.” Dolph's eyes opened, and if he was at all startled by Mike's proximity he didn't show. He merely looked curious, searching his face for a moment. The sunlight touched blue eyes, revealing hints of green in their depths. Beautiful. “You didn't do your meditation.” The silence lingered a minute, concern creasing his face.

“You okay?” Like he would ever be okay again. He was ruined, tumbling down a slope with no hope of returning to where he was before. And who knew what was waiting for them at the bottom?

“No.” It came out softly. Low. Barely able to be heard over the water only a few feet away. But Dolph heard and only furrowed his brows.

“What? What's wrong?” Most times, he would have a witty retort, one that would make Dolph roll his eyes and smile. Right now, however, he only had one thing on his mind. He was losing grasp on his control, and his cool was out the window. Later, he would be embarrassed about how desperate he probably looked. But now? 

Now, he only wanted one thing. He just had to hope it wouldn't be refused.

“May I?” The concern fizzled into confusion. He licked his lips slowly – deliberately – and dropped his gaze down over lips and tanned skin and the sensitive length of his neck. He watched the muscles contract as Dolph swallowed, waiting for the okay to take a bite out of his Adam's apple. When he shot a glance up to read his expression, a thrill shot down his spine as he met dark eyes and a familiar flicker. Lips parted, he shifted forward, Dolph moved too, and that was it. 

The kiss was rough, similar to the one Thursday. A hand came up to cup the back of his head and anchor him into the kiss. His bones melted, eyes finally falling closed while he fought for dominance. Fingers curled against his scalp, unable to grab onto his shorter hair, so he mimicked the action in thick blonde strands he tugged out of the braid. The kiss was dirty, stirring up sparks in his chest and setting them both on fire.

Maybe it would just burn his clothes off and they wouldn't have to separate. 

Eventually, he was able to maneuver Dolph back onto the mat, sliding over him like that's where he belonged. Underneath him, the man arched up and moaned, refusing to break the kiss. His fingers curled against Mike's skin painfully, but he was too distracted with the heat radiating through the thin tank top to pay attention. Calloused hands slid over his shoulders and wrapped loosely around the back of his neck. Holding them there, if only for a moment. They shared breaths, glances, and then a kiss. 

It wasn't long before he needed to break the kiss completely or risk combusting on the spot. His skin was crawling, too sensitive and yet begging for touch. Starving for it. Craving. When he pulled back, bracing himself on his forearms, and got a good up-close look at Dolph's face. The breath remaining in his lungs was pushed out. 

There was something ethereal about his appearance in the sunlight; the way the rays painted him in this indescribable and fascinating way. Sharpened his features. Poured liquid fire into his eyes. Mike wasn't the best with words – eloquence not his strong point – but he couldn't help pausing and appreciating this man.

If he were an artist – one who could make those really life-like pictures with paints or pencils – he would paint this exact moment on canvas. Maybe the side of a building. The golden skin peppered in dark facial hair. Cheeks smudged in blush. That hungry glint in watchful blue eyes. He wished he had a camera; or at least a photographic memory. 

Shaking off his stupid thoughts, he sat back and grabbed at the hem of his shirt. Yep. This was happening. No excuses. No pretending it was anything other than the two of them wanting to do this. And on the beach...

The second his fingers touched the shirt, eyes darted to where a sliver of skin had to be showing – if the breeze prickling at the skin of his tummy was anything to go by – and he suddenly wished they had blankets. Or at least the patience to get in one of their cars. It was probably better they just get this done here quickly. Because while he wanted to go slow – really tease the man staring up at him – he was cold and impatient and probably not going to last long anyway.

Not when he's been worked up for about half an hour now.

He yanked the shirt over his head in one quick motion, tossing it to the side and nearly jumping out of his skin when cool hands touched him. He managed to smother a hiss, but his belly flinched when fingers brushed against it. He was always a bit sensitive there. A little ticklish. Dolph didn't pull away. Instead, he ran those strong hands up over his chest and sat up from underneath him in a smooth motion that knocked him silly.

Okay. His core was _ridiculous._ And that shouldn't be so hot, but, well, it kinda was. 

Lips trailed over his skin, hot and demanding. In control despite his position. Rather than fight him on it, maybe force him back down, he closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and let himself just...feel. It surprised him how easy it was to submit like this, to let someone else control things, when he was normally the one to take charge in his life, but he couldn't deny how _good_ it felt to sit back. Enjoy himself. Let someone else do the work.

Opening his eyes, he tried to tug Dolph's shirt over his head but was stopped when the man pulled back. Arms wound around his neck once again and pulled him back down into another searing kiss. He gasped against the demanding mouth as nails clawed down his back. Teeth found his ears, an icy nose skating along his jaw.

Patience was definitely not his virtue.

“Let me...” Dolph grunted, hot breath against his ear. He tried to grab the shirt once again, making space between them to work the shirt up, but then he was on his back. Blinking up at the sky and that smug smile.

“Oh, no. Allow _me._ ” Mike leaned on his elbows, though he nearly collapsed back onto the mat when the tank was tossed away with his, sunlight dressing him in rosy gold against California tanned skin. Right then, he could probably cry just looking up at him. He didn't, thankfully, but a low whine might have slipped out. Whoops. “Look at you. Not even naked and already so close to begging.” Something predatory washed over his face, gaze sharp as flintstone while watching his every move. Tracking his every breath. He fell back on the mat as Dolph crawled over him, lazily sliding his body over his.

This time he definitely blubbered something. Closed his eyes. He was just so... overwhelmed. 

“Yeah? Like that?” There was a husky quality to his voice that wasn't there when he normally spoke, a bass to it he didn't have when they chatted at the gym or even during their yoga sessions. He didn't remember so much talk when this happened the first time, but they were also drunk. Or, at least, under the influence of alcohol. This power, the predatory smirk, that effortless sexiness... This was who this man was. 

And damn it, he wanted it. Wanted more.

In a blink, they reversed positions again, hands braced on Dolph's chest. It was dizzying how quickly he moved – how he managed to somehow move them both – and left him playing catch-up for a few seconds. Fingers crawled along his thighs and pinched at his sides. He blinked, staring down at Dolph before shaking off his daze and cupping his jaw. Feeling the burn of facial hair against his palm.

“I want you. Now.” It didn't take a genius to put it together, and he was more than happy to give him exactly what he wanted. They just needed to lose a few things first. 

The sand wasn't as much of a problem as he feared it would be. Only a minor inconvenience, though he was still lost in bliss, so he didn't care much about it anyway. He could be covered in buckeyes and probably not notice. He would probably care in the shower, though. But that was a later problem. A gorgeous man was heaving under him, eyes closed, and gripping his bicep. Neither of them moved, Mike stealing a moment to catch his breath before shifting away. 

Right. That was why he was stalling. Not because he liked the feeling of the body beneath him. The warmth they shared even as the chill raked across his back and bare ass. Certainly not because he was dying for just a few more seconds. Before the magic and adrenaline wore off and they pretended it never happened. Nope.

Like Thursday night, Dolph was the one who broke it first. With a grunt, he pushed out from under him, turning away to snatch clothes out of the sand. He shamelessly watched the muscles of his back flex while he moved and reached. How could every single thing about a person be so...hot? Sexy? He forced himself to look away, rolling into a seated position and fishing his clothes out of the sand. While leaning for them, he let his chest brush against the warm back painted bronze from the sun making its way into the sky. That brief contact set him on fire once more, but he knew better than to push it.

If Dolph wanted, he could go again. For as long as he wanted. But that wasn't in the cards for them, so he just focused on getting ready. Getting back to the dorms so he could nap. It was his favorite thing to do on a Sunday afternoon.

“See you Tuesday morning?” He was bridging up off the mat, trying to tug his pants on without getting up. Dolph's question threw him for a moment, and when he looked, his upper body was twisted around so Dolph could see him, the muscle under his skin...

If he could, he would sit up and slide right in behind him. Trace his skin with his mouth. His tongue. Pepper kisses along his shoulders and savor every taste of salty skin drizzled in sunshine. But, well, it wasn't happening. Not today. Not ever.

Clearing his throat, he sat up and offered a smile. 

“You bet. In case you couldn't tell...I'm not going away. Better get used to me being around.” Dolph gave him a long look, nodded once, and proceeded to clean up the yoga equipment.

Thankfully, there was no welcoming party when he returned. Probably going out for lunch or brunch or something. No line of questioning he couldn't answer. No nosy friends trying to pry his shell open. He fixed up his bath, lavender bubbles already relaxing his body and making him feel sleepy. Stepping into the warm water, he called to his phone and soon the bathroom was filled with soothing music and he could sink into the bath fully.

Normally, his baths were a time of quiet meditation where he thought of nothing and did nothing. Just a few minutes of peace in his hectic life. This time, however, he was unable to keep his mind from wandering away over and over again. To the classes he had for the week. The gym sessions he was now anxious about. His future as a dancer. What they would be having for dinner since Ty was cooking. He grumbled and splashed the water with his foot. He stared at his toes, wiggled them, and sighed before hoisting himself out of the bath. 

When he opened the bathroom door, clothes in hand and swaddled in a fluffy wine-colored bathrobe, he was greeted by Carmella walking out of the kitchen with her dairy-free cookies and cream dessert. She greeted him with a bright smile.

“A bit early for ice cream, isn't it?” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Not all of us are psychos who like to do yoga at the crack of dawn. I'm living my best life.” She leaned forward and sniffed him, giggling. “And you seem to be too. Lavender is pretty.” He was rather fond of his bubble baths, thank you.

“It's a self-care day, Mellow Mella. Are you watching something?” She nodded, gesturing to the couch where her blankets were thrown over the back of the couch. Considering she was still in her pajamas and didn't have makeup on, he figured she woke up not long ago. He tilted his head in the same direction, raising a brow. “Mind if I join? After I get dressed, of course.” 

“If you don't care about watching Desperate Housewives, you're welcome to it.” Actually, he didn't particularly care about the show one way or another, but he liked spending time with her. So he offered a thumbs up and hurried away to change into a sweatshirt and basketball shorts, warm socks pulled on because his bath always left him feeling a little chilled. When he sat down in front of the couch, a spoon appeared next to him with the creamy dessert.

“No thanks. So, I've never watched this show before. Catch me up.” He tried to focus on what she was saying and what was happening on the television, but he was exhausted. Slowly, his eyes started falling closed. Nails scratched against his head, pulling him closer to dreamland until...

He woke up with a start, Ty now sitting in the armchair near him and sipping at a bottle of iced tea while watching what sounded like Vampire Diaries. Carmella was gone, as were her blankets and snacks. He was curled on the floor where he was sitting only moments ago. Or, he thought it was moments. How long was he asleep?

“Hey, there he is. Hello, Sleeping Beauty.” Sitting up, he stretched his arms and back until it popped, his legs still sore from that morning. He groaned and flopped back down. This work vacation in California was not going at all like he planned. 

“How long was I asleep?” Carmella returned, dressed in workout gear and hair pulled in a high ponytail. 

“Two hours. I was halfway through explaining the show to you when you slumped over.” Man, he normally didn't sleep that long. After yoga, he usually messed around on his phone for half an hour and then would sleep for an hour at the most. He wasn't someone to take naps for so long because it disrupted his sleep schedule too much. 

“Sorry, Mella. I don't usually do that. I guess I was just really tired.” She offered him a piece of her protein bar and sat on the couch. Ty, however, was watching him. Rubbing his chin like an idiot and then snapping his fingers. He did not like the look on his face.

“Hold up. You had yoga today, right? With Super Sexy Muscles?” Could Ty please just call him by his name now? His endless nicknames for Dolph were weird and not helpful. Because now all he could think about was how sexy and muscular he was. How he now knew exactly _how_ muscular he was. “I didn't think you the 'sex on the beach' type. I'm impressed.” Carmella threw something at Ty, which he dodged easily and smiled at her.

“You're annoying.” Ty threw something back, somehow managing to hit Mike instead. He glowered at him, but Ty only shrugged.

“I hate you. I'm appointing Carmella as my best friend.” With a dramatic flail of limbs and a shocked cry, Ty flew off the chair and wrapped himself around him, begging him not to abandon him for someone prettier. “Get off, you idiot.”

When the others returned, they joined Mike, Ty, and Carmella in the living room area for a relaxing afternoon of being lazy and throwing food at each other. It was nice, getting to enjoy being with his friends. Bonding. Annoying the hell out of each other. And when dinner came around, they decided to go out rather than let Ty cook (a good decision) and probably made everyone around them angry with their laughter and stupid antics.

From start to finish, it was a pretty good way to spend a Sunday. When he settled in bed, laughed-out and bubbly from champagne, he couldn't help but smile like an idiot.

Monday was rainy and surprisingly cold considering it was California, everyone shaking off their coats and hair as they stepped into the dance hall. Today they were officially working with the group they would perform at the festival with. A buzz of adrenaline skittered over his skin as he warmed up, unable to keep from bouncing on the balls of his feet because they were finally getting to the good stuff. The challenge of keeping up with Fandango's top students would push him to be the absolute best. To work harder than he ever did before. 

He would become a dancer worthy of hiring for a tour. Someone who could take the stage with the best and shine just as bright. 

The songs were fast-tempo tracks with bass that shook the room, his eardrums ringing when one ended. They were all learning together, so at least they were somewhat on the same page. On an equal level with the homegrown students used to the style. It felt good to not be the only one having a little trouble nailing the steps.

At the end, everyone drained their bottles and chatted breathlessly. Fandango's students were pretty chill, never seeming like they thought they were better than the others. Always willing to help. Ty was talking to a couple of girls, but Mike noticed he was close to where Fandango was speaking with the instructors. Apparently, his plan was still in motion.

“Your buddy's not going to find that one easy.” He turned towards a girl with fiery orange hair. She pointed her bottle to where Ty was now listening to something Fandango was saying. She chuckled. “Fanny's been careful about not dancing with his students. If you catch my meaning.” 

“I do. And I'll pass it along. I think it's a terrible plan, but he never listens to me.” She nodded, pointing out a tall blonde showing off by doing push-ups. In a handstand.

“She tried for almost a year. A few others have knocked at the door, but haven't had any luck. Wish him some for me.” She disappeared, so he hoisted his bag on his shoulder and made his way over to Dream and Summer, who were talking about hair or something with a couple other dancers. 

“I'm heading out. Are we getting lunch or are we on our own?” They both looked around the room, checking where the others were before shrugging. Excellent. He wasn't looking forward to going out with all these people. Or even a large group of them. So he turned away and nearly ran into that pretty French girl. She also looked ready to leave, but her friends were nowhere to be seen. 

“You good?” Her brows knit together and then she nodded. The struggles of a language barrier. “Do you want to get lunch? My friends are busy too.”

“I'm starving!” 

She was nice company, hilarious when he could understand her. It was a pleasant afternoon, the rain long gone and sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds. A breeze tugged at her hair, which she flipped behind her with a laugh. He cut his chicken, shaking his head and chuckling. The way she pronounced certain things in English amused him.

“Mizrald!” They turned to find John jogging towards them. He stood to greet his friend, who then looked down at Maryse and sent him a curious look.”Who's your friend?”

“This is Maryse. She's from one of the groups we're dancing with.” He turned to her, gesturing at John. “This is one of my best friends. John.” She stood and shook his hand, giggling when he winked at her. Honestly, what was in the water here? Everyone was so flirty lately. 

“I didn't mean to interrupt your little date, man. I was just coming to pick up lunch for me and Dolph. Crazy running into you on this side of town, actually.” It was a place he looked up, apparently one of the nicer places in California. Hey, if he was going to be out here, he was going to try things out.

“Yeah. Someone hasn't taken up on his promise to show me around the city, so I've been checking it out myself.” A waiter handed John a bag of food, another stepping around and placing the check on their table. He took it and handed it back with his card. “And it's not a date. I don't have the energy for all that right now, man.” John shifted on his feet, glancing over at Maryse.

“So, you wouldn't mind if, say, I asked her out?” He snorted.

“Be my guest. She might slap you, right Maryse?” She too laughed.

“It's the French greeting.” They exchanged numbers anyway, John waving and heading for his car. Finished with their food, he stood and stretched while waiting for her to gather her things. He figured walking a little way and then calling an Uber would be good for them. He was feeling a little full and uncomfortable. 

“We weren't on a date?” She kept pace with him, dodging around people easily and blinking up at him with curiosity. Wait, she thought...

Oh. Right. Made sense, actually. He cleared his throat and shook his head.

“No. Sorry if you thought we were. I just figured you might be hungry, and I didn't have any plans.” She waved it off, laughing.

“It's okay. You're very nice, Mike.” He still felt bad for accidentally leading her to believe he might be interested in her like that, though, but there wasn't much he could do except apologize and be clear with her in the future. She took a different Uber, so he continued on his way once she was gone. He enjoyed walking in California.

Tuesday, he stepped into the gym bright and early, feeling like death but eager to get to work. He checked in with some guy who left oily stains on papers he was moving around and waited rather impatiently for Dolph to appear. Just get through this and get on with the day.

“Are you Mike?” He blinked away from his phone, a familiar man with short brown hair and wearing a shirt with the gym's name printed on it standing there. Hiding his phone away, he cleared his throat and nodded.

“I am.” Dude looked him over and crossed his arms.

“My brother sent me out here to let you know he's on his way. He's just running a little late. Apparently, his roommate got food poisoning or something.” Considering John loved sushi and never cooked his food all the way through anyway, he wasn't surprised. Wait, brother?

“Oh, thanks.” Guy who was apparently Dolph's brother (he could sort of see the resemblance, now that he thought about it) shrugged, still eyeing him suspiciously. He wasn't used to strangers watching at him like that, so he returned the look. 

“There you are. Thanks for talking to him, Briley. I'll take it from here.” Bri- As in...

“Wait, do you own this place?” Briley and Dolph both turned to him.

“Yeah. Well, actually, we both do. But he doesn't like to do anything but train people.” Dolph glared at his brother, and seeing them side-by-side, yeah, he could see it now. Well, this was all interesting.

“It's more exciting than looking over books and numbers. Speaking of training, I have a client. So, if you don't mind fucking off?” The bite in his voice surprised Mike, but the brother didn't seem bothered by it at all. He's never heard Dolph speak like that before- like he was seconds from tearing the guy's head off. Briley rolled his eyes and whispered something in Dolph's ear as he passed. Dolph shook his head and snapped at him, the two sharing nasty looks as Briley disappeared.

“Right. I apologize for him. He's cranky because I can sleep in more than he's allowed since he runs the place. Let's get to work then.” The session was killer, his stomach on fire and he was struggling through the last set, but it felt good. He felt good. Dolph seemed a bit distracted, but he was as chatty as he normally was so Mike shrugged it off. 

Something Ty mentioned to him in passing came back to him, and once he was finished with the plank burnout, he collapsed on the ground and rolled over on his back. Dolph smirked down at him, hands on his hips.

“Hey, I had this idea.” Dolph helped him to his feet, and then they headed for the locker room. “Fridays we normally work out here, but I don't need the extra day. You know? I mean, I'm getting abs that rival John's.” Dolph paused mid-step, watching him before agreeing with a slow nod. 

“I guess it is a little extra. If you want to discuss cutting it out, let me go-” Mike stopped him with a shake of his head.

“Actually, I was thinking we replace it with something else. If that's okay? Because you've helped me massively in the gym, and I figured maybe you might be interested in trying dance?” Coming out of his mouth, it sounded so stupid. Why would he want to do that? He had clients to work with all the time. But it just seemed fun and different. He was tired of ab workouts anyway. The gym was boring, and he could admit it would be fun showing Dolph a piece of his world. 

“Um, okay, I know that sounds dumb.” Dolph chuckled, looking relieved for some reason.

“I can't promise I won't be embarrassing. I am not really...made for a dance floor. But why not? Just hope you're up for the challenge.” Of course he was. Mike was facing challenges his whole life and knocking them out of the park. Teaching someone how to dance? Piece of cake.

“Just bring comfortable shoes and be ready to sweat.” They went separate ways, Mike a little lighter with the anticipation of working with Dolph on Friday. He didn't really teach dance much because he was focusing on working towards a career, but he was pretty good at it. Good enough people asked him why he didn't just teach choreography instead of pursuing this dream. 

As if that needed an answer.

“Going to the gym?” He checked over his bag once more, glancing at Ty and shaking his head. 

“Dance studio. Have you seen the AUX cord?” He hurried over to his suitcase, sifting through his clothes and tugging the cord from where it was coiled under a pair of pants. Ty whistled lowly.

“You're skipping out on the gym with Mister Hottie? I'm shocked.” Mike shot him a look that made Ty burst out laughing. 

“ _No,_ and please stop calling him that. Instead of the gym, I'm going to teach him dancing. I figure this will last exactly one time. Maybe two if he's stubborn.” Ty gaped at him. “Don't look so surprised. It was your dumb idea.”

“I didn't think you would _do_ it. Wow. I'm impressed.” He dropped onto the bed, picking up a book Mike was reading before going to sleep, and smiled up at him. “If he wasn't all over you before, he will now. You're a sexy teacher, you know.” He still didn't get why Ty said that, but he barely blinked at it anymore. 

“We're on for lunch still, right? I should be back by then.” He clicked his tongue, saluting Ty's amused smirk and heading for the door. 

One of the more difficult things for beginners to get over was dancing in front of the mirrors. It took Mike a little while to stop being self-conscious while watching himself dance, and it was the same for everyone. Dolph took one look at the wall of mirrors facing the open floor and stopped in his tracks. Mike threw down his bag and waited for Dolph to make his way to where the stereo was sat on a shelf built into the wall. 

Teaching someone to dance was a delicate art. The person was almost always embarrassed to do anything with their body, let alone move the way dancers often did, and getting them to feel the music rather than dance along to the words was a difficult task all on its own. He's taught a few people, choreographed a few dances, so he had the ability. It was up to Dolph whether he wanted to really do this or not. 

“So...this is kind of terrifying actually.” Mike nodded, sipping at his icy water and gesturing to the floor.

“Before it becomes your best friend – your partner – it is one hell of a beast to defeat. Seriously. Nearly every dancer has anxieties about stepping out for the first time. No one is born a professional.” Dolph turned to him, looking pretty incredulous. 

“You were nervous when you started?” He hugged himself, dragging his eyes from wall to mirror. “You look like you were born dancing.”

“And that took years of hard work and dedication to attain. You'll get there, sport.” His joke broke through, Dolph finally loosening up a little and rolling his eyes. “You didn't come into the world with tiny baby weights, did you? Born with the knowledge of how different exercises can work different muscles; then know how to pass that on to someone who may have never seen a gym before? Right?” 

He plugged his phone in and pulled up one of his favorite playlists. Songs that were easy to dance to. Club songs that were made to move the body. Then they went through a warm-up he still followed to this day, stretching and getting their muscles ready to move in a way that was probably foreign. Dolph took to these easily, but the nervous frown he wore didn't fade away. He made sure to direct Dolph to the mirrors, getting him used to seeing himself moving in them. As someone who worked out in a gym, he was no stranger to the mirror itself. The best way to perfect form (other than having a nifty trainer nearby to correct you) was to look at it in the mirror. 

But dancing in front of one? That was a whole other game. 

“Okay, I think we're ready to move on to the purpose of this. First, I'll show you a basic routine I learned when I first started. You can follow along if you want.” It was short, only a few basic steps, and then he waved Dolph closer. It was clear he wasn't trying to look scared, but it was obvious in his stiff shoulders. “I'll go slow. You copy me the best you can. This is kind of like...the assessment you had me do. I need to see where you're at.” They performed it again, and he realized there were a few problems.

Firstly, he was concentrating too hard on getting it perfect. The moves were robotic rather than flowing smoothly, and he wasn't feeling it. He was also not watching himself in the mirror as he should. But this all could be worked out if Dolph wanted to keep going. 

“Not bad.” He queued up a few songs, Dolph snorting at him.

“You don't have to lie to me. I know I'm shit at this.” Mike glanced back at him, taking note of the insecure posture, and rubbed his lips together. He knew where to start. A dancer needed confidence, and while Dolph was usually a very confident person, it wasn't translating into his movements because he already thought he was terrible at it. And it probably didn't help Mike was a professional and made it look easy.

“I want you to go over to that side of the room and walk towards me. To the beat of a song I'm about to play. Whatever the beat makes you feel, do it.” It was an exercise in a couple different things. Learning to let the music take over you. Finding confidence in your movements. Maintaining eye-contact no matter what your body was doing. So, he waited for Dolph to cross the room, hit play, and pointed over to where Dolph was studying him with hands on his hips.

“Just walk!” The music was boppy, the perfect music to walk along to. In fact, he sometimes would listen to it while walking back to his apartment from the gym, strutting along and earning plenty of glares. Not that he cared.

It took Dolph a long moment to find the movement he wanted to do, starting and stopping a few times. Then he just moved through it, his eyes often shooting to his feet rather than keeping them directed at Mike across the room. His movements were jerky, uncertain, and he didn't seem to click with the song. 

Aha.

When he joined Mike once more, pulling his hair up in a ponytail and not meeting his eyes, the music stopped and he waved Dolph over to where his music app was open. 

“Okay, I want you to pick a song you actually like to listen to. One you might jam out to while knocking out chores or something. A song that makes you move no matter what.” And when a familiar Britney song started, he wasn't surprised. “Great. Okay. Now do that again. But this time, don't drop your eyes. Just trust your feet to get you here and keep looking ahead. Move how you feel.” He demonstrated his own walk, snapping his fingers or throwing his arms out as he went and spinning at the end of it. Dolph shook his head, but at least he was laughing. That was a good sign.

This walk was better. There was more confidence. He looked like he was having fun. Sort of. He looked good, Mike bobbing his head along to his steps before offering a high-five.

“I feel like those babies learning to walk and their parents are, like, cheering and recording them like they've done something insane.” He shrugged. “Which, for them, I guess it is.” Exactly. And someone who didn't dance getting out there and trying to find their 'dancer's legs' was a huge deal. It took courage to put yourself out there. 

“I don't think your analogy is far off. How did that feel? Good?” Dolph looked back where he just walked, biting his lip.

“It...at first it was weird. Kind of terrifying. But, as I went, it felt okay. Better. I tried to get lost in the music and I think it helped.” Perfecto. Exactly what he was hoping for. 

“That is precisely what we do. The choreography is drilled into muscle memory, and then we can feel the music and add our own little personalizations. My friend Summer likes to flip her hair when doing rolls. I sometimes add a little hip action if I'm feeling it. Dance is an art, much like painting. There are rules, but you can make it your own.” The power walk always helped people finally click with the essence of the craft. The rest was technique and practice. At the very center of dance was an understanding of music and rhythm. A love for it.

For the first lesson, it wasn't too bad. Dolph loosened up once he was able to dance to music he preferred, and they shared a few laughs while doing stupid moves in the mirror. Mostly just screwing around for an hour so Dolph could get comfortable with the dance floor, the sound, and the mirrors. It probably wasn't what most teachers did, but Mike wasn't trained to teach. He only knew how to make it fun, and it seemed to work for people. So, screw textbooks and drills. 

Though they didn't talk about it, Mike figured this would be the only time they did this. Dolph would politely decline the next lesson and Mike would shrug and suggest they just hit the gym and return to their normal routine. Simple, right? It wouldn't hurt his feelings. Some people just weren't into it, and that was fine. 

Except, when a Sunday passed (this time without any trouble) and Tuesday rolled around, Dolph glanced up from his clipboard after a tough session that left his abdominal muscles burning and sweat making his shirt stick to his skin. The pen clicked closed. 

“So, is there anything I should be bringing to these Friday lessons? I've never taken lessons a day in my life.” He nearly dropped his phone on the hard floor, eyebrows probably brushing his sweaty limp hair. He still-? But why?

“Oh, um. No. Just comfortable clothes and shoes with smooth soles. What you wore last time was good. You're sure?” Dolph frowned, drumming his fingers on the clipboard and looking perplexed.

“I thought this was what we're doing now. On Fridays.” He didn't expect Dolph to keep going. This was surprising. “Last time was fun. Well, after the awkward stuff in the beginning.”

“Sure. Sure. Yeah. Okay. Fine with me. It's more fun than crunches anyway.” Dolph snorted, throwing him a pointed look.

“Maybe not fun, but they will make you that much better at your craft.”

November faded into December, winter taking hold of Los Angeles and surprising everyone with its ferocity. See, New York was icy cold from around October to like April, but they didn't think California was a place that got _cold._ Kind of like Florida. Or Texas. Mike didn't pack nearly enough sweaters for this, snatching one off Ty as he headed out for the dance/core hybrid workout session. 

It was nearly a month and Dolph was still powering through these lessons, though he decided after the second session that he was going to get something constructive done with Mike and forced him through fifteen minutes of workouts that made his whole body tremble and had his stomach sore for two days. Just in time for yoga, which he still hasn't crossed the line with. Not after the first time. 

Maybe he finally got it out. And now they could just be close friends. It wasn't like they talked about what happened the night of his charity show, nor the Sunday morning after that. They just...pretended it didn't happen. He wouldn't admit yet it was a little disappointing nothing has happened again because it was perfect. They were good. 

He covered a smile while watching Dolph try to work through the choreography he showed him that first lesson. He was still too robotic, too focused on trying to get each move exactly perfect. The style he did wasn't about precision in movement. Maybe if Dolph wanted that, he could take ballet. 

“That wasn't too bad.” He paused the music and offered Dolph a bottle of water, the two of them sitting on the bench to rest for a few seconds. It wasn't easy to get someone to let go of this perfection mindset, and he was struggling with how to get through that he needed to loosen up. If you take a step wrong – or completely forget one – that's when you could just freestyle it out. 

Timing would come later. But if you worried about all that first, you would look like a board rather than a dancer. 

“You don't need to keep lying to me. I know I'm terrible at it. It's fine.” Mike didn't understand why he was still bothering with it, though when he mentioned it to Ty, his friend had some ideas. None that were helpful– or possibly true. 

“Come on. This is only your, what, fifth time? You're doing well for how little time you've been working at it.” He eyed the man suspiciously. “Have you been getting help with your dancing?”

“You mean aside from the weekly lessons I've been taking with this guy I've been training at the gym?” It took him a second, and then he snorted and punched his arm lightly. “Nah. I want to feel less like a baby deer on ice when I'm here, and my body roll is just embarrassing, so I turn on music while I'm home and dance around. Hopefully, it will help. John's threatened to get a new roommate for a week now.” Imagining John's exasperation made him chuckle, and he expected a text soon. 

“Don't listen to him. When I started dancing, he asked me for a free lesson. And he was horrible. So, he's probably jealous.” It wasn't a lie either. As graceful and athletic as John was, for some reason he never could grasp dancing. Maybe it was because they were young and Mike wasn't as good at translating the art to something a beginner could understand, but whatever the problem, John gave up pretty quickly when he tripped over himself more than he cared for. 

“I can't imagine him being bad at something. I swear that guy is perfect.” He checked his watch. Maybe he could get out of doing endless planks and push-ups if he ran through the choreography again. 

“Let's try this once more. Practice is the key.” To his amusement, Dolph groaned like a child told to clean their room again, trudging to the middle of the floor and running through it again. Dancing without music was harder in his opinion because a lot of the timing was in the rhythm of the song. But Dolph hated the song that this routine went with and refused to hear it again. 

“Music?” Dolph glared at him from where he was bent to the side, hands around his ankle before sliding them up his leg and flicking them out when he was upright again. It made Mike want to get in on it. This choreography was a favorite of his for a long time, and he sometimes forgot about it. So, when Dolph finished, looking somewhat satisfied with himself (Mike was pleased with his work, though there needed to be more creative flair...), he jumped up and started the song. 

“Turn that shit off!” He ignored the annoyed shout, staring himself down in the mirrors and hitting the familiar movements. It felt so good dancing for fun rather than because he needed to get it right so he could impress someone watching and snatch a job out of it. He could play around with the moves. Add his own touches. He winked at the mirror and posed to finish, laughing for a few seconds as the song ended. 

He thought he was fine. Anything between them was burned away by passionate sex (twice), and he was ready to believe it happened because he was attracted to Dolph and hadn't had sex in a long time. After one time drunk, and another sober, he was satisfied with the fact that there was nothing real between them. Sure there was still an attraction, but it wasn't like he was blind. It would go away with time. 

Ty's stupid prediction that Dolph wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself or whatever was proven false when they successfully got through six sessions without incident. Not even a lingering look. Which, okay, was a little disappointing, but whatever. Things were good now. Better. Ty could take his romantic fantasies for him and shove them. 

He was on the dance floor, working through one of the new routines they were learning. It was early Wednesday morning, and for some reason Dolph decided he wanted to come hang out at the studio. Mike finished and glanced over at the mirror Dolph was leaned against, book spread across his lap and pen working against the page. He said he was going to be figuring out his schedule for the next week, swiping through his phone every couple of minutes. The thing was quickly switched to vibrate when the noise surprised Mike during his warm-up and he fell over.

And in the two seconds between him finishing the song and turning to look over at Dolph, those feelings from the past couple months came back, out of nowhere. While he was standing there watching Dolph work. Completely lost in what he was doing. This room had windows in it as well (one of the reasons he loved working here during the day rather than at night), and of course, Dolph was sitting in the sunlight splashed across the floor. It was like a spotlight, distracting him from the routine he was practicing only a moment before. His chest felt tight, his thoughts dropping away as he watched. Dolph flicked a page, glancing up and offering a brief smile before returning to whatever he was looking at.

This wasn't real. He shook this stupid crush already, deciding it was nothing more than a heat-of-the-moment thing and moving past it. It couldn't possibly be back, catching hold of him when he least expected it. He's been working one-on-one with Dolph for over a month; why was he now tripping over these stupid feelings again?

And then hit him. When he was in 'dance mode', everything else was sort of...hidden away so he could focus. Teaching dance was the same, and even though it was Dolph, in particular, he was working with – something most teachers would find troubling, considering their brief history - Mike was able to separate those moments and focus on nothing but helping a student learn dancing. And that tricked him into believing he was over whatever happened between them. Why it happened now, when he was dancing, he wasn't too sure. Emotions weren't exactly logical things. 

Great. Just great. What was he supposed to do with these stupid useless feelings? 

Well, one thing was for certain. He was not doing anything about them. Not again. It was only going to lead to trouble. Giving in would only keep him from being able to move past it like he wanted. Just ignore them and keep focusing on what he was there for.

This sounded oddly familiar, and he knew how well it worked out the first time. It was like listening to a song you haven't heard in years and suddenly remembering all the words. But he had no other options. Shaking out of his thoughts, he restarted the track and took a deep cleansing breath. This particular song was stuck in his head nearly all the time now, the beat stupidly catchy and Nicki's verses circling through his thoughts as he went about his day. 

The break down at the bridge was his favorite part of the whole thing. It was sexy and powerful. So much fun to watch and even more fun to actually perform. They were currently breaking it down in small groups for presenting to everyone else at the end of the month, but he wanted all the practice he could get with it because it was so different from what he was used to. When the music changed, something dramatic, he dropped down and pushed his knees apart, checking his facials in the mirror. 

Facials were a surprisingly important part of dancing. If you performed all these incredible steps with a bored or blank look on your face, people would not connect with you- they wouldn't enjoy your hard work because you weren't enjoying it. This song was hot. It was sexy. It was gritty and dirty and fun. It was cheeky. So his face needed to match that as much as his movements did. He shifted his weight back and forth, playing with different poses and hand positions before pushing back to his feet and jumping back into the chorus. 

The song ended and he nodded at himself, satisfied with his performance, and was about to move to the next song – this one a popular Britney track – when he found Dolph watching him. His face was mostly directed down at his work, but his gaze was fixed on Mike across the room. Still sweaty and buzzing from the dance. The song played over in his head and he flushed head-to-toe. 

And then, without really thinking it through, he played it again. Dolph glanced up at the speakers, eyebrow raised at him in question. With a shrug, he started freestyling the movements, directing them at Dolph rather than the mirrors. The red could be seen slowly crawling up his neck, but he still only rolled his eyes and went back to his books. 

Which just wouldn't do. He was _performing._ He was not going to be ignored.

He twisted his hips, the music picking up to the bridge, and he brought out his hip hop background. Once again, he dropped down, but this time he moved across the floor, kicking his legs out when he was close and knocking the book out of Dolph's hands. A dirty look was shot at him, but he couldn't find a single care. He rolled back, foot hitting the ground behind his head, and then pushed to his feet, mouthing the words when he was upright. It was a little trick he learned from Summer when they were all messing around in a studio. 

Still impressive, apparently. Dolph blinked up at him, pen still in hand but hanging loosely between his fingers. The song continued, but now he was just repeating the movements from earlier. These were memorized by his muscles, so he didn't have to think much about them. Which was good, because his focus was now on a certain trainer watching him closely. He spun and strut back to where he was a few minutes ago, finishing the song with a dramatic toss of his head. 

Sometimes dancing was a lot of fun, man. 

The second song they were doing played, and he couldn't help smiling at the recognition on Dolph's face when Britney giggled at the start of the song. For some reason, California liked more...sexy songs, which was all they've run through since arriving. This one was no better than the one before, only now it was a song Dolph liked. He tapped the pen against his knee, still watching Mike.

This particular song a lot of fun to perform. He wasn't the biggest fan of Britney (sue him), but the routine Fandango and Stephanie taught them was challenging and he couldn't get the song out of his head a lot of the time. Somehow he forgot Dolph might really like this one. Without thinking much about what he was doing, his body danced through the song. He wasn't as into the song and how his movements flirted with the music perfectly as he should. And there was one very simple reason for that loss of focus. 

Once again, he made his way over to where Dolph was leaning against the mirror, not dropping his gaze even though his body was on fire. The red swallowed Dolph's face, but he merely stared back. He couldn't imagine what they looked like to someone outside the moment, maybe like a couple of idiots, but who cared about that when there was electricity crawling over his skin. Jumping between them and sparking. 

He made it all the way to Dolph when the bridge ended, the chorus coming in softer, so he reached out and just barely brushed his fingers along Dolph's jaw. Not dragging his eyes away for a second. Watching. Waiting. He seemed to like the contact, eyes falling closed and chin tilting like a cat when you scratched under their chin. He wondered if Dolph would be purring. 

They sat like that for what felt like forever, the song ending and something else playing after it. He was torn between turning it off because the music was loud and annoying, and leaving it so he didn't need to leave this bubble he was caught in. From the corner of his eye he caught things falling to the side – books and pages and pens – and then his decision was made for him when a hand grabbed his leg.

Yeah, the music was fine. Actually, this playlist kind of complemented the mood in the room right now. Even if Dolph scowled at it a second before Mike leaned in. The air between them was supercharged, and once their mouths met, it exploded all around them. Something slow came on, the bass shaking the room, and Mike shifted forward. Pushing. Taking. 

He didn't particularly like what was about to happen, to happen in a large and semi-public studio, but like how it was on the beach, he didn't have enough patience or care to go somewhere else. Besides, Dolph didn't seem worried about it. So they carried on, Mike naturally moving according to the music surrounding them. Dolph nearly took a piece out of his neck, startling him into jerking back. 

“Sorry. You, um, surprised me.” He chuckled and brushed his nose along that deliciously strong jaw, sighing while his hands wandered aimlessly down hard muscle and hot skin. Nails dug into his side, the column of his throat exposed when Dolph arched his head back against the floor. Which probably wasn't comfortable at all, but he wasn't complaining. So he stopped worrying so much and fell full-force into the moment. 

“Is this country music? Seriously?” He paused to listen, dropping his forehead on Dolph's shoulder. It was actually a very sexy song to listen to, but moving back, he found Dolph staring up at him like he was playing the theme song to Barney or something. With a shrug, he pushed up and away. It wasn't a big deal to go change it. Or shut it off completely. 

Arms snaked around his neck and kept him from getting away. He frowned.

“Do you want it off or not?” Dolph smirked up at him.

“I want this disgusting offensive trash off instead. Forget the damn song. It's not that bad. I just can't believe you have it.” Fingers tugged at his shirt, the apparent 'disgusting offensive trash' Dolph wanted removed. Which, rude. It was a nice shirt okay? The design was cool. And the color looked good on him, according to Summer and Lex. And they would know, considering their impeccable style.

“I happen to like this shirt, you know. And this song is _so_ sexy.” He winked. “I'll have to show you another time.” The shirt was tugged again, eyes narrowing up at him.

“The _shirt_ is fine. You wearing it – or any for that matter - is offensive and cruel. Off.” Fine. He pulled it over his head, tossing it away with a pout. Why was it always his clothes that had to go first? Kind of unfair if you asked him. 

“Your turn.” Eagerly, he tried to tug the shirt off, but Dolph had other ideas and managed to roll them over. How the hell did he always do that? Mike wasn't exactly a featherweight. Dolph sat back, dragging his nails down his chest and stomach until they stopped at his waist, eyes flicking up to meet his. 

It amazed him that he was lucky enough to see that look on his face. To have pretty blue flames ready to consume him at any moment. They tangled in a searing kiss, trailing his hands up Dolph's back and trying to get to the skin burning through it. His plan was foiled, but he was rewarded anyway as the shirt was tossed away. He was happy to sit there and admire, but they didn't have the time. They were in a rather compromising position, and anyone could come walking in at any time. 

Why was that so...thrilling to him? Where was the guy who preferred a bed in a room in the privacy of at least a hotel room? Because the one tangling his fingers in Dolph's hair while they made out on the floor of a dance studio in the morning light pouring in through the window was not that man. And even if it was, he would rather die than be caught with someone like this. But right now he probably wouldn't care all that much if someone interrupted them.

Well, other than to be annoyed with them.

“I have a client in like ten minutes.” It was mumbled against his lips, hips shifting against his still as the kiss continued, but Mike turned away until Dolph pulled back, then blinked up at him.

“Ten minutes? When do you need to leave here?” He considered that for a moment, then shrugged. 

“Probably should have already. But they'll be fine.” He didn't think they would appreciate their trainer showing up late because he was busy getting laid on a dirty floor, but it wasn't his problem. The only person he had to answer to today was himself; well, and Ty. But he wasn't telling his friend anything.

“Cool.” He tried to turn them over, but Dolph blocked it somehow and grinned against his jaw. 

“Maybe one of these days I'll show you that move. Hmm?” His shorts disappeared, cool flooring seeping into his ass and making him hiss. Dolph clucked his tongue, trailing his eyes down as slowly as he possibly could. Torturing him.

“Commando? While dancing? Interesting.” Fingers tickled his belly, brushing against the sensitive skin with feather-light touches. Mike flinched and squirmed under him, annoyed with the games now. Any second this could be ruined by someone trying to use the room, and he was way too worked up to be okay with that. 

“Can you just...” He jerked his hips, narrowing his eyes and really trying to get the message across. Dolph hummed, walking his fingers up to Mike's lips and running his thumb across the bottom. His pupil dilated while he stared, and then he blinked and nodded. Clearing his throat.

“I can.” They switched once more, Mike finally able to move this along to a responsible speed. He tugged clothes off and tossed them away, biting along thighs and meeting a dark look directed at him. But he ignored it and reacquainted his lips with Dolph's neck.

Any trace of their activities was cleared from the room, the window cracked open to rid the air of sweat and musk for whoever was next to come in. Mike fixed his shirt in the mirror, blinking at his reflection and thankful the bite to his throat was already fading. It would be pretty hard to explain that away. He glanced over to his right, Dolph tying his hair up in a knot in the mirror. Then they were looking at each other, the silence broken by a laugh from the other man.

“You know what would be fun?” He gestured to the mirror, raising his brows suggestively. He was glad his face was still red from exertion because he was blushing hard now. In the mirrors? Like, watching themselves? He never did that before, and it made him both curious and self-conscious. But apparently, there was this whole other side to him being brought out, so maybe it would happen. 

“In your dreams.” To his surprise, Dolph winked. 

“Every night.” Wait, was he flirting? They never did that before. But he didn't have time to think of something to say because the door opened and, to his horror, Ty and Dream walked in. Frantically, he checked around one last time for any signs of what happened. Of course it had to be freaking _Ty_ who walked in. And Dolph was here. They were going to officially meet. 

And after they had sex. Oh, man...

“Well, look who it is, Dream. Mike and the trainer. Putting him to work, Dolphie?” At least he didn't call him 'Lover Boy' or 'Mister Sexy Muscles'. Dolph grinned, a bit uncomfortable but always pleasant. He held out his hand, which Ty and Dream shook. And both of them cast curious looks over at Mike, who was watching the whole exchange with his heart in his throat. It was his worst nightmare come to life.

“He looks kind of sick. You okay, Mikey?” Dolph shifted his feet, searching Mike for a moment before tucking a hand away.

“Oh, I should probably be leaving. I have a client waiting. See you Friday, Mike.” Then he left, the tension sitting on Mike's shoulders easing now that Ty wasn't anywhere near Dolph.

“Nice guy.” Dream whistled lowly.

“You weren't kidding. He's really hot.” Mike glared, Dream's hands coming up quickly. “I'm not going to touch! I swear. I'm just saying. I'd definitely-”

“Please. Don't say it. Don't finish that sentence.” Ty came over and threw an arm across his shoulder. 

“Aren't you proud? I didn't say a single thing about your crush on him! I was very professional.” Actually, he was, and Mike was very thankful. 

“I am. Thank you. Anyway, I'm starving. See you guys later. Have fun.” They waved and went about setting up for their practice, Mike escaping the room and leaning against the wall just outside the door. He stared up at the ceiling, calming the anxiety down some because he felt nauseous. 

He was going to go back to the dorms and take a long nap before class that evening. He needed it.

Friday morning was anxiety-filled. As he showered. As he fixed his shake. As he tied his shoes and crept out the door. Wednesday was only two days ago, and he couldn't predict what was going to happen when he was around Dolph again. 

What would he feel? Would there be this awkward thing between them while dancing in the same studio they were in Wednesday morning? Maybe he should stop these lessons. But, then he considered how much Dolph seemed to enjoy them and couldn't bring himself to do it. He would just have to grit his teeth and focus on being a teacher with a student.

Dolph was leaning against the building when he arrived, shades covering his eyes and arms crossed. He realized as he got closer that the man was snoozing. And he just couldn't help but sneak up close and scaring the crap out of him. It was totally worth the kick to his shin and the things Dolph threw at him. 

“Asshole.” He took a deep breath and stepped into the studio, relaxing when he felt nothing but prickling anticipation for today's practice. Dolph tossed his bag against the wall and started on his warm-up while Mike set up some music for them to listen to while getting their bodies ready to dance. Dancing was his therapy in a lot of ways. It's what he turned to when he was upset or frustrated. He could just forget everything going on in his life while moving around on the dance floor.

Not even Dolph or what happened Wednesday could break that, and he was so thankful. If dancing was ruined for him...

“If you play that stupid song, I'm throwing your phone into the ocean on Sunday.” His finger lingered over the song Dolph despised, weighing how seriously he took the threat, and decided against playing it. He didn't think Dolph would actually throw his phone in the ocean, but if he hated it that much he wouldn't play it.

He wasn't a complete jerk. 

“It's easier to dance to the music, though. You sure?” He threw his hands up at the sharp glare he received. Right. Okay. Together they ran through the choreography again, the music playing in Mike's mind as they went. It was nice...even without the music. Did their shoes always squeak so much? And so loudly? It was giving him a headache.

“I think you're ready to get on a stage. You're getting good at this.” There were about twenty minutes left, so Dolph was setting up the mats for the core workout. Mike figured it was just the sick and twisted side of him enjoying the suffering Mike had to go through while doing various workouts. If he still couldn't get six-pack abs, he was going to be pretty upset. 

“Let's not rush things. I've just gotten comfortable in front of a mirror. And you might want to avoid John for a while. He's ready to choke you.” He sipped his water. “Hey, actually, that reminds me. Want to come over Sunday after yoga? There will be some great games on.” Did he want to see John kick his head off? Was this some joke to him? 

“Um, that doesn't sound like avoiding Johnny.” Dolph snickered. 

“He won't be there. He's off filming for a few days. I've got the place to myself until Wednesday.” Was that so? 

“Planning on throwing a party? Since dad's out of town?” Reluctantly, he sat on the mat, Dolph laid out on his already and stretching his arms over his head. 

“There's no better time to have one, right. Come on. Warm-up crunches.”

It wasn't often he was late to anything. He learned early in his dancing career showing up late was extremely frowned upon in the performance and entertainment business. Unless you were a hotshot they absolutely needed, you could be replaced easily. So he made sure to be early if at all possible. That way he could also introduce himself and make a good impression on everyone. Having a good reputation was not something to stick your nose up at. 

There were rare times, however, where he slept in. Or when traffic was ridiculous. Maybe he spilled coffee on his shirt. Whatever the reason, he was late every once in a while. And today was one of those days. And, yeah, it was just yoga. And Dolph was his friend – therefore he would be super cool about it – but that wasn't the point was it? He took punctuality very seriously because it was a sign of respect. For someone's service. For their time. 

He whipped into the sandy parking area, the car barely off before he was hopping out of the car and jogging towards the beach. Dolph was stretching in the sand, mats rolled up in their usual spot, and he faced the ocean. The sun was still hidden below the horizon, the sky a blue-gray hue as the world woke up slowly. The morning was freezing by the water, the wind cutting through his pants and making him shiver.

They might need to move this inside. Or at least away from the ocean.

“Morning. Sorry I'm late.” He tossed his water towards the mats and joined Dolph in looking out over the water. It was like glass, smooth save for the waves lapping at the sand. It was pretty. Soothing. Did he mention it was cold too? “Might be the last time we should do this here. I didn't realize it gets this cold.”

“It's always colder by the ocean. But you're right.” He stood from the sand, shaking his pants out and then rubbing his hands together. “Let's get to work. My hands are already getting stiff.” The great thing about working out was that you warmed up pretty quickly, and the same was true about yoga. Especially since they were moving more than usual. This style of yoga was apparently called 'power yoga' and was great for toning. It was different and actually made him a little breathless towards the end. It was like learning dance all over again, stumbling over himself to keep up.

Back at their cars, they hurriedly planned for one o'clock for the game, Mike rubbing his bare arms because he forgot his stupid sweatshirt in the washer and didn't have time to wait for it to dry. Dolph was in the middle of discussing the different games when he paused, reached into the back of his car, and produced a fluffy gray ball of fabric. Which he handed to Mike.

And which he refused with a polite laugh.

“Seriously. I have, like, fifty of them. And at least three are right here.” As if to prove his point, he pulled out a red one and shook it in front of Mike's eyes. And then there was a black zip jacket discarded on the leather seats. Still... “Just take it. You're freezing. I thought it was cold in New York ninety percent of the year?” 

“It is, but I didn't realize I would need a coat here.” Dolph rolled his eyes and pushed the sweatshirt into his chest, turning away to shut the doors so they could get going. Mike had a nap to take after all. He pulled the sweatshirt on, the thick material protecting him from the wind still tugging at his hair, which was growing longer than he normally kept it. It was turning fluffy and thick, but there was no way he way paying forty dollars for a simple cut. 

“Great. See you in a few. Drive safe.” Mike waited for him to pull out and take off down the road, the shiny white vehicle disappearing into the river of cars rushing by. Then he started the group car and pulled out into the fray. As he maneuvered into a tight spot between two cars in the left lane, he sniffed at a strange scent that tickled his senses. Did one of the girls leave their perfumes in the car and now it was leaking everywhere? He did not want to pay to get it cleaned out. 

It took him walking up to the door of the dorm to realize it was the shirt he was wearing that smelled like that. And then he realized everyone was going to notice him wearing a sweatshirt that proudly announced it was from a school in California. Dandy.

“Well lookie here. Sharing clothes are we? When's the wedding? I'm the best man, right?” Didn't Ty usually sleep in on Sundays? Why was he up at nearly nine o'clock? Carmella and Summer were on the couch, wrapped in blankets and watching something on the television. Dream was snoring on the floor by them, silver sharpie doodles standing out against his darker skin. 

So much for hoping he could just go to his room and not be bothered.

“He could have just written _'Property of Dolph'_ across his forehead. It would have been the same.” It was official. He hated them all. Except for Carmella. She was shoving Summer and stealing a pancake off Dream's plate. Not at all caring about teasing Mike. Like a nice adult person. 

“But not nearly as warm. And I bet it smells wonderful. Guys who look like that always smell so divine. Let me get a whiff.” Mike stepped back, narrowing his eyes. 

“Hey, I have to return this. Keep your sticky hands off.” Ty rolled his eyes but backed away, flopping onto the couch and spilling juice on Dream, who woke with a shout and kicked the plate of pancakes in the air. It was like living with a bunch of five-year-olds. There was shouting and chaos, a fight nearly breaking out when Ty merely laughed at Dream's predicament. Mike hauled a squirming Ty out of the living room area, mere inches from getting his face clawed as Dream tried to grab him, and shut the door to his room. Ty was still laughing, the sound turning more into a hoarse wheezing, and holding his stomach on the bed. Mike rolled his eyes and pulled his shoes off.

“Thanks....for....saving me.” His laughter finally subsided, more huffing than anything, and he tilted his head to look over at Mike. When he raised his brow, Ty started up again. Why was he a child?

“I didn't save you. I saved Dream from jail time for killing you. I swear I'm the only adult here.” His time for napping before he had to leave was ticking by, but he couldn't sleep until he knew everyone was calmed down. If he woke up to them trying to hide Ty's body, that would not be good. Though, he wouldn't get in any trouble. He did try to stop them. 

“True. Daddy Miz. That's definitely you.” That's it. Murder charges be damned. 

“Don't ever call me that. Get out so I can nap. Or I'll help Dream hide your body when he murders you.” Ty groaned and rolled onto the floor. Mike kicked him a few times, stepping over him and sitting on the bed. 

“Fine. But you'll be eaten alive by the burly dudes in prison. And when Dream joins their ranks, then you'll be in trouble!” He disappeared through the door before the pillow could hit its target. With Ty gone, he finally dropped back on another pillow and sighed, drifting off to sleep nearly as soon as his eyes closed. 

He was ready to be bombarded with more people he didn't know when he arrived at Dolph's place, but when he stepped through the door, there wasn't another soul in sight. They got to the living room and, other than the television commentators, there was no one around. Dolph returned from the kitchen just as he sat down, handing over water before dropping next to him and opening his beer with a satisfying metallic pop. Since their team wasn't playing this week, they flipped back and forth between a few games, watching the Pittsburgh game simply so they could boo the team. It was nice. Chill. 

“Oh, there are some sandwiches in the kitchen if you're feeling hungry. I forgot them.” They flipped to the Chargers game, which was on commercial, so Mike got up and retrieved the food. The only thing he ate were these little egg bites Alexa liked to make, so he was absolutely starving. There was a touchdown while he was gone, so he watched the replay before making his sandwich.

The afternoon slipped by, and soon the sun was slanting into the room as it prepared to retire for the night. The games were competitive, fun to watch. Dolph stretched and checked the time, wincing before twisting his spine and sighing when it cracked. Mike answered a text from Dream and yawned.

“Hey, I hope you don't mind but I need to go take a shower. John hogs it at night and I have clients early tomorrow.” His brain tripped over 'shower' for a few seconds before he was able to nod. He should probably head out anyway. It was getting later, and traffic would be a nightmare if he didn't get going. Dolph disappeared down the hall, the door clicking shut after a moment. Yeah, leaving was definitely a good idea.

Imagining your friend naked in the shower was probably not healthy, and while he wasn't going to confirm that's what he was doing, well, he couldn't deny it either. Yep. Time to go.

And, of course, as soon as he stood to leave, his bladder decided to announce it was _seconds_ from bursting. Great, what was he supposed to do? Could he really hold it until he got back to the dorms? Mike gauged himself for a moment and decided that, no, he needed to go _now._ He was making a mental note to stop drinking so much water in the future. 

It took far too long for him to knock on the door. The quiet singing on the other side stopped and there was a clicking noise.

“Yeah?” Mind _out_ of the gutter. Mind out of the gutter...

“Hey man, do you mind if I use your bathroom?” There was a moment of silence and then he was invited in. Sighing in relief, he pushed into the large bathroom. To his horror, the shower – to his left – had glass walls and door. Oh, man. He yanked his gaze away and quickly went to use the bathroom. The sooner he could get out of there, the better. Steam was slowly filling the room, the cool part he was in becoming humid as he stood there. 

“Hey, can you hand me that bottle on the sink? Black.” Seriously? Did he need to go through this torture? He bit his lip and washed his hands before steeling himself to take this bottle and somehow hand it over without seeing anything. Not that he didn't _want_ to see, but he was trying to respect their friendship and this right here had to be crossing some lines considering their recent interactions.

He somehow reached the door without looking at the shower stall, even though he was extremely tempted to, and cleared his throat outside the door. Water splashed on the floor as he tapped his knuckles on the door, steam rushing out and leaving droplets all over his arm and face when it creaked open. The sound of water raining down became louder. When nothing happened, he made the mistake of looking up.

_Geeze._ This man should be against the law. The bottle was plucked from his fingers and just as quickly as he appeared he was gone, hidden behind the steamed glass. He could just make out the peachy tone of his body through the thick cloud of steam, and it felt like he was close to having an aneurysm there in the bathroom. There was a shiver under his skin, despite the heat in the room, and his walls were slowly melting away. The reasons they shouldn't paled in comparison to the want to do so. 

Running head-first into danger was fun sometimes.

The only thing was...he wasn't really much for shower sex. It seemed pretty dangerous, not to mention uncomfortable, and wasn't exactly ecstatic about trying to maneuver around with water spraying down and cold tile walls to lean against. But, the thing was... he was starting to not care so much. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he feared. All he had to do was get in there and find out. 

Shoot for casual. Nothing too obvious...

“So,” he needed to talk louder than normal, blush shooting from his feet to the top of his head “-this is a pretty spacious shower you have here.” Why was this so hard for him? Just spit it out. The worst that could happen was Dolph said no thanks.

“I guess.” Right. Moving on.

“Looks like you could fit more than one person in there. Have you ever tried? Just to see if it's possible?” Right on the money, Mike. About as smooth as a jagged cliff. Nothing but water pattering against the floor for what felt like ten years, and then Dolph coughed. The sound echoed, which reminded Mike that this room had acoustics. Every sound...amplified. 

“Um, no. I only live with John, and we're not exactly close like that.” Why were they like this? Why couldn't he just open the door and step inside? Why was he trying to hint and suggest and avoid the question sitting on his tongue? Where was his nerve? Why was this so difficult for him still?

“Ah. Right. Yeah, that makes sense. Cool. Well, I should probably...you know...” More silence, and then the door opened, Dolph poking his head out and pointing to the sink. Okay, he's seen him naked – in broad daylight – multiple times now, and yet it still blew his mind how he looked. How gorgeous he was; even with water plastering his hair to his face and making him look drowned. Mike flexed his fingers against his wrist, watching and waiting to see what Dolph was doing. 

“Can you hand me the razor over there? Please?” Given instructions to follow, he was able to shake out of his trance and follow them, snatching up the razor and handing it over to Dolph's outstretched hand. Except, Dolph's hand passed the razor and grabbed his wrist instead. So he stood there, helpless, watching. Wondering what was going on while his heart jumped in his throat.

It was probably only a second or two that passed, but it felt like centuries. Standing there, watching each other. Electricity buzzed between them, and when he couldn't take another moment of tense silence, he shot forward and collided with Dolph in a fierce kiss. A wet hand grabbed the back of his neck, anchoring him there and slowly drawing him closer to the hot spray. He licked into Dolph's mouth desperately, clawing at slick bare skin, searching for a way to hold on. Something clattered to the ground, startling them apart.

One glance at the man's face and the decision was made. He licked his lips and fixed his shirt. 

“Do you mind if I, ah, join you?” He had the pleasure of seeing the expression on Dolph's face change, a thrill shooting up his spine as the door slammed shut between them. The razor lay there abandoned in the excitement. He leaned down to move it out of the way, then tugged his shirt over his head. His pants took far too long to remove, but he did finally kick them away and approach the shower. His stomach clenched when he stopped short of the shiny handle, and he took a deep breath. Butterflies flapped around his chest. His breath caught in his throat. Rolling his shoulders, he opened the door and peered inside.

“Took you long enough. Thought you changed your mind.” He was facing away from the door, rinsing his hair in the spray. It was a bit smaller than it seemed, but two people could definitely fit. No turning back now. He pulled the door shut and let out a stream of air. Okay. This was happening. 

It was a little weird for sure, being in the shower with someone else, but he could admit it was interesting standing there and checking someone out while they put on a shampoo commercial for him. He spent some time getting used to everything, letting his eyes wander over bronzed skin, and finally stepping forward to run fingers down Dolph's sides. Just barely touching. And to his surprise, Dolph stepped back the rest of the way into his space, leaning his head back on Mike's shoulder. The space between them disappeared and he couldn't quite contain the gasp that escaped.

“Oops.”Despite the thrum of energy under his skin, he laughed. This was about the most stupid thing he's ever done – and him getting worked up and worried about it was just silly at this point – and Dolph seemed to sense he needed the tension broken. Because it certainly wasn't an accident, nor was the smile he was given when Dolph stepped away to pick up another bottle. “Can you get my back for me? It's a tough spot.”

See? There were perks to showering with someone else. Getting your back often took some extra tools or some great flexibility, but having someone else there to just take care of it was a fantastic idea. He popped the cap and squeezed some out, the gel cool against his palms. He rubbed his hands together, a thick lather forming. Dolph pulled his hair out of the way and rounded his shoulders, exposing the thick cords of muscle running down his back and wrapping around his shoulder blades.

Did he ever mention how lucky he was that he was allowed to do something like this? With someone like Dolph? Standing there, he couldn't quite remember why he ever let himself be tortured by not giving in to this man, running his hands along the warm skin and pressing gently. Swallowing thickly, he scrubbed down, trying not to focus too much on the muscles under his fingers. And when his hands skated across Dolph's lower back and out towards his hips, the man turned and tugged him into the spray. Lips brushed along his jaw, water getting in his eyes and mouth. He spluttered and glared into shining eyes.

“That wasn't very nice.” Dolph ignored his petulance, tickling fingers up his arms with a tilted smile. He could probably get drunk off that look.

“I don't really like to play nice. Or fair. Thought you figured that out already.” Mike pressed his hands to either side of Dolph's face, the hair flattened to his head and face flushed from the heat of the shower. He looked ridiculous and beautiful and good enough to eat. “Might want to take a picture. It lasts longer.” Sick of his mouth, he covered it with his own, Nails raked down his chest, fingers gripping his hips as they kissed in the spray.

After a moment, Mike moved them until Dolph bumped into the wall, completely out of the water and hanging on tightly. He crowded as close to the cold tile as he could get, pressing his hands into it and letting out a haggard breath. Fingers dug into the back of his head, hot breath puffing against his lips. They shared air for a moment, tipping over the edge in slow-motion. 

When their eyes met, the only sound in the room the steady shower stream raining down just behind them, a wicked smile curled over Dolph's lips and that was the end. They fought for a moment, but it didn't take much effort to pin wrists up against the tile wall and snatch up a leg. To move in close and lose track of everything and anything but what was happening right here. Right now.

Time to find out if being in the shower was as dangerous as he imagined it to be whenever he saw a scene in movies he often caught late at night while studying. Dolph tilted his head back, nearly cracking it on the wall except then Mike tugged him forward. Closer. An amused look crossed his face, and Mike felt fingers playing with the hair at the base of his skull. 

He just realized he probably looked ridiculous after being in the spray. He prayed he looked nearly as good as Dolph did, but he knew it was a long shot.

“What's so funny?” If there was one thing he was good at, it was spoiling a moment. But, on the bright side, Dolph was excellent at bringing it right back. Hands loosely crossed behind his head moved, fingers brushing across the sensitive skin of his neck and down his shoulders. Chest. Nails tickling down his stomach, eyes trailing along after them. And it was becoming a bit awkward, just standing there with his hand under Dolph's left knee, the other keeping them from colliding with the wall. 

If someone was going to throw their head back like an idiot, he was going to prevent any serious injuries if he could.

“Nothing.” Fingers dug into his skin, and he hissed at the nails biting into him. “You won the battle. Wanna do something about that?” Lost in the darkening blue eyes watching him, he blinked at the smooth velvet undertone. The gentle caress of fingers against his wet skin. A heavy cloud surrounded them, heat in Dolph's eyes burning him through. 

“Mm?” Dolph laughed darkly, leaning up and in. Sucking in the oxygen and leaving him lightheaded.

“Just do something, idiot.” Well, he didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed a handful of hair and dragged them into a wet kiss.

If you don't count Mike nearly falling out of the shower stall, things went a lot smoother than he thought they would. A win in his book. He wrapped a towel around his waist and checked his reflection in the mirror. The shower cut off, finally, and then Dolph stepped out. He flicked his eyes down to the towel Mike wore and crossed his arms.

“Really? You come into my bathroom. Hijack my shower. And now you're just stealing my towel. You must think you own this place now or something.” His feet slapped against the floor as he made his way over to a cabinet and pulled out a fluffy black towel, grumbling the entire time but shooting him a smile that told him there was no real annoyance with him. 

“I didn't hear complaining before now.” Dolph snorted and left the room, the steam escaping into the rest of the apartment. Cool air found him, raising bumps along his skin while he stood there with his hands on his hips. Probably should get dressed and head back to the dorms. They had classes in the morning. 

He was buttoning his pants up when Dolph returned, towel around his shoulders and wearing a sleeveless Black Sabbath shirt and jeans. Mike couldn't find his shirt, though, and it wasn't like it could have gotten far. The bathroom was pretty clean, yet his shirt was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey, hope you don't mind, but I accidentally grabbed your shirt with mine and then I saw it was stained, so I threw it in the washer. I'll bring it back to you on Tuesday.” Oh. Well, that was nice. Except he now had no shirt. How was he supposed to explain that to Ty? He would probably just laugh in his face. 

“I brought you this, though. Should fit.” And that was how he ended up walking back into the dorms wearing a hideous neon blue shirt with *NSYNC lyrics printed on it. And as he thought, Ty took one look at him and laughed so hard he fell off the couch and onto the floor. Whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These updates just keep getting farther apart... This one was far more difficult to put together than I anticipated, but here we are!
> 
> While writing this chapter, there were a few songs I really loved – songs that fit the _* ahem *_ theme of this chapter – but “Domino” was the one I went with. Still, I decided to share some of the songs I hit repeat on while writing this. Give them a listen if you want!
> 
> **Songs:**  
>  \- “Small Talk” by Niall Horan  
> \- “Naked Love” and “Fever” by Adam Lambert  
> \- “In My Head” by Jason Derulo  
> \- “Motivate” and “Private Show” by Little Mix  
> \- “Sleeping With You” by Firehouse  
> \- “Ooh Ooh Baby” and “I Wanna Go” by Britney Spears  
> \- “Hey Mama” by David Guetta ft Nicki Minaj and Bebe Rexha  
> \- “Baby I'm Home” by Trace Adkins
> 
> “Hey Mama”, “Ooh Ooh Baby”, and yes, even “Baby I'm Home” (the country song) were the songs in the dance studio scene, by the way.


	6. Wide Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I'm falling from Cloud 9_
> 
> _Crashing from the high._
> 
> _I'm letting go tonight_
> 
> _Yeah, I'm falling from Cloud 9._
> 
> _I'm wide awake"_
> 
> \- 'Wide Awake' by Katy Perry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm still here...still writing this thing!
> 
> This chapter was intended to end differently - though on a similar note - but when it feels right, you have to go with it. 
> 
> Hope you're in the holiday spirit...because we've got a couple coming up!

To no one's surprise, Sunday was becoming his favorite day of the week, though now Friday was coming in at a close second. He decided Dolph was ready for a more complicated choreography, so he decided to teach him the _“Oops! I Did it Again”_ routine done in the video. It was a challenging one, but it was a lot of fun too. And it helped Dolph basically watched the video religiously since it came out years ago.

The waiter dropped off a basket of bread (gluten-free), Mella picking it up and tearing it into bite-sized pieces. It was a warm afternoon, and they decided to get away from the screaming banshees playing video games for a while and spend some time outdoors. And what better way to spend an afternoon in California than eating delicious food that was vegan and gluten-free and probably dairy-free too. It was a health nut paradise. Or someone with diet limitations, like Dream and Lexi.

“Oh gosh, I am so ready for this sandwich. Why can't New York have this cute little bistro?” He picked up a piece of bread, sweeping his gaze around at the people strolling down the sidewalk, chatting excitedly or singing or walking their dogs. Carmella waved at some dude with a camera, blowing kisses and winking over her sunglasses. 

“Probably because people in New York would shit on it. They literally hate everything there, you know.” She giggled, accepting more water with a pleased smile for the waiter. It was true. California was more laid back than any other place in the country that he's been to, and they seemed to love everything. Accepted everything. New York was pretty much the opposite.

He had a feeling it was because of the cold. It made them irritable. And how mad could you really get with a beach in your backyard?

“Have you checked out any of the beaches yet? Your girl wants to get some sun before that festival.” He's only ever seen the one, and he had no clue what it was called. Besides, once it turned cold, they resorted to doing yoga at the studio rather than outdoors- and especially not at the beach.

“You know, a lot of people here just go get spray tanned. Or sit in a tanning bed. Which, if I were you I'd consider if you're looking to get tanned. Because I don't think you'll want to go sit at the beach right now.” It was nothing like New York, where Mella was born and raised apparently, but it wasn't just the chill in the air that chased him off the beach. It was that stiff ocean wind that carried an extra bite to it.

“Ugh, you're right. It's nice now, but it's also only December. Why did this festival have to be in early spring?” Their food arrived, which they dove into with more enthusiasm than was probably healthy. They've been in California for a little over three months and they were still obsessed with everything. Starstruck.

Speaking of starstruck, when was he going to casually bump into an A-list celebrity? It seemed like everyone had this story of how they ran into Jennifer Aniston while shopping for hats, or stood in line for a coffee behind Lance Bass. And yet, there he was. Lacking in any insane stories to tell his friends and family.

Well, not completely true. But he certainly wasn't telling his mother what he got up to in California. Aside from his dancing, which she loved hearing him go on and on about. 

“We should go stargazing.” He snorted. 

“Can you imagine Ty sitting still long enough to look at stars? Not to mention how cold it gets at night.” When she didn't answer, he glanced up at her and found her staring at him like he was the most idiotic person in existence.

“Celebrities. I'm talking about celebrities.” Oh. In that case, he could bet everyone would love to do that. _Especially_ Ty.

“I've heard they don't really like it when people do that, though.” In actuality, there was no time for them to go touring around California. Seeing where celebrities lived or trying to track down one to take pictures with. After Christmas, they were going to be busy learning routines and getting the show together. But it was fun to talk.

She peered around him, squinting her eyes, picked up something off the table, and then pegged it at him. No, wait. Behind him. She shrugged, like what she did wasn't completely out of nowhere and crazy. Throwing things around at a restaurant in Los Angeles? Where a celebrity with a _lot_ of money and influence could be sitting, just waiting for someone to do something they could blow up over... 

If this was, like, Bradley Cooper or something, she was in deep shit. Probably getting carted off to jail. And he was not about to help her out of that mess. 

When he turned to apologize – or, more accurately, stumble through something like an apology - he choked on his words because it wasn't a celebrity of any level sitting there. Nor was it a stranger. Sitting behind him was Dolph, of all people, who was now turned around and blinking at him. Them. Looking like he's been caught doing something wrong before smoothing out his features and clearing his throat. 

“Hey! Wild seeing you here, man.” When a waiter appeared, Mike cut into his greeting and invited Dolph to sit with them instead. Normally he would never do such a thing, not when he was out with a friend, but it was Carmella he was hanging out with today. He trusted her to behave and not embarrass him. That fear was all reserved for Ty.

The stroke he would have if _Ty_ did what Carmella just did. 

“No. I mean, I don't want to impose on your lunch-” Mike waved away his concerns because the more friends the merrier, right? Carmella reassured him he wouldn't be, that anyone who was a friend of Mike's was a friend of hers too, and they finally convinced him to join them. He fiddled with the silverware, glancing between them and maybe a touch uncomfortable. A weird look on him, actually, but Mike could diffuse the thick tension. It was a gift of his.

“Mella, this is the trainer I've been seeing. Dolph, this is one of my good friends from the dancer's academy in New York.” She offered a hand for him to shake, which Dolph did after a moment of hesitation. The bundle of anxiety in his chest unraveled at seeing them getting along. At Carmella's easy smile, though he became wary of this knowing twinkle when she looked over at him. 

“It's nice to finally meet you. Mike has been keeping the secret to his transformation tightly sealed. I think Ty only just recently learned what your name was.” Dolph turned to look at him for a moment, and then he smiled tightly at Carmella. A similar expression he's noticed when people at the gym come up to him for no reason but to hit on him. Still uncomfortable, then.

“Well, you know how he is. Likes to keep things all to himself.” His words were short and curt, an edge there he only heard one other time. And other than Carmella disturbing him during his lunch, he couldn't think of what in the world would be bothering him. And what was this remark about him keeping secrets? That wasn't him at all. Well, okay, it was _now,_ but it wouldn't be if Ty wasn't such an obnoxious asshole. If his friends were even somewhat normal, he wouldn't mind Dolph meeting all of them. Just, with their situation, he didn't want anything to make it weird...er. 

Maybe it would have been better to just leave him alone. Because now Mella was studying him like he could fill her in on Dolph's mood, but Mike had no better insight than she did. He had no clue why was Dolph acting like he's been given sour wine and has to pretend he likes it.

“I only really keep things from Ty, and that's because he's too damn nosy.” Time screeched to a slowed crawl, seconds and minutes dragging as they sat there. Dolph's food came, and then he was busy eating rather than adding to the conversation (or answering with more than a shrug, grunt, or hum). Carmella kept giving him these looks, glancing over at Dolph pointedly when the man wasn't them paying attention. But he had no idea why he was acting differently, so he merely shrugged and finished off his drink.

After three glasses of water, he really needed to use the bathroom. He cleared his throat, drawing two pairs of eyes on him. “I'll be right back. Excuse me.” Their gazes trailed after him and he prayed he wasn't going to regret leaving Carmella alone with him. He's never had to bring two different friend groups together before, and obviously the circumstances surrounding this one were a little different too. 

If there was a record for using the bathroom the fastest, he would probably have broken it just then. After washing his hands, he made his way back through the bistro and outside, dodging waiters and trays and elegant glasses of wine. Nothing catastrophic seemed to have happened while he was gone. Mella was stacking the empty plates and talking about a show she did a couple years ago. Dolph nodded along, though he seemed to notice Mike returning first and turned to meet his eyes. Things appeared to finally have settled, Dolph less reserved and distant; more like how Mike knew him. Relaxed. Charming. 

“Mike, is it true Summer danced through a major wardrobe malfunction once? I've heard the story, but you know how rumors are.” Oh gosh. How could he forget that? And she wasn't even embarrassed by it. Naturally.

“I think she got fifteen phone numbers after that. She's just insane.” Mella dug in her purse and handed him some money. Which, naturally, he didn't take. He was more than happy to treat his friends, and lunch was his idea. But she rolled her eyes and flapped the money in his face as dramatically as possible until he took it with a glare.

“Ooh, I need to go get my nails done. Have a good afternoon, boys. Dolph, really nice to meet you.” They watched her pick up her things and hurry out, Dolph clearing his throat with a nod in her direction.

“She's nice.” He was finished with his food too, and the waiter was coming by every couple of minutes to see if they were ready to go. Refilling their drinks and exchanging their breadbasket. In other words, politely trying to get them to leave.

“She is. I haven't known her all that long, but she seems to be the most level-headed of the group. Which is so relieving because they all act like children most of the time. I've had to stop at least three fights since we've been here.” Dolph's brows rose, so he quickly laughed. “I mean, not major blowouts or anything. Just the natural result of six people being around each other all the time.”

“Makes sense.” He pursed his lips and ran a hand over his hair, laughing awkwardly. “I feel a little silly now, but when I first saw you guys I thought you were on a date. Or something.” 

_Ohhh!_ That made a lot of sense, actually. Why didn't he realize it before? Because, now that Dolph mentioned it, he could see how it would probably be pretty awkward sitting at lunch with a guy you were sleeping with and someone you thought was his girlfriend. Yikes. 

“Oh, man. I'm sorry. I didn't even realize how it might look to someone on the outside. No, yeah, we're not together. Like, at all.” He nodded, watching people laugh on the sidewalk. Rubbing fingers back and forth across his mouth and chin.

“Yeah. She told me... in so many words. I mean, she was really cool about it. And it was good to hear because, I won't lie, it was pretty weird for me at first. Like, I've never been involved with a cheating thing. Or open relationship thing. Whichever it could have possibly been.” Mike chuckled. 

“I wasn't sure what the hell was going on when you invited me to sit with you and who I thought was your girlfriend. And then it occurred to me, about three seconds before you got up, that maybe acting like the friend of yours that I am would be a good idea, but she's sharp. Straightened it out while you were gone.” When the waiter returned yet again, holding the checks and gauging them as he approached the table, Mike asked to pay for his check and Dolph's, ignoring the glare he received when he handed off his card. Carmella's cash could be used for the tip.

“You didn't have to do that.” Mike shrugged, taking his card back with a smile.

“I didn't, but I did.” Dolph seemed ready to argue with him, giving him this look like he wasn't happy about it, but it wasn't a big deal. The bill was barely thirty dollars. He could spare it. 

Sitting there with Dolph, he decided he didn't want the pleasant afternoon to end just yet, so he drummed his fingers on the table while staring out across the street and thinking through different things they could do. There was a lot of sunlight to burn, after all, and it was the perfect opportunity to get to know Dolph and the city better.

“So, I've been trying to get John to show me the city for weeks now, but he's apparently too busy for his regular friends. I'm in desperate need of an expert guide..” Dolph inhaled loudly, stretching back with his hands behind his head. 

“Will I take you around Los Angeles? Is that what you're asking?” His offered smile and thumbs up were received with an amused huff. “Okay. I've got time to kill for a little tourist. But it'll cost you.” He went to ask what exactly this 'cost' would be, but then he was tossed a wink and it flustered him too much to speak. Which rarely ever happened, okay? 

He followed out onto the sidewalk, waiting for Dolph to begin their little tour. This would probably be the only chance he got to waste a sunny afternoon with his handsome trainer with preparations coming for the festival and he was ready to enjoy the hell out of it. They were stopped by a ridiculously luxurious car, which he figured was because Dolph was looking something up or maybe trying to figure out where they should go, but then Dolph pulled open the door and it hit him they were getting _in_ the candy apple red Ferrari with the top down. Did everyone in California drive convertibles? Maybe it was the law.

The seats were covered in pink leopard print covers, the wheel too, and hanging from the rear-view mirror was this sparkling cherry charm pendant. Random, but interesting. When he started the car, guitars and shrill vocals blared from the stereo and spilled out into the street, attracting eyes all around. Dolph turned it down and pulled into traffic, drumming his fingers on the wheel with one hand and digging out his sunglasses with the other. To his surprise, they turned off the main street through town, and eventually, they were leaving the city. 

He turned back towards where the noises and smells were fading. Where were they going? Wasn't this a tour of Los Angeles?

“You trust me?” That was an odd question, one that would raise flags if he didn't feel like he knew Dolph well. Well, enough to know he wouldn't drive him into the woods and eat his liver. Hopefully. Dolph laughed, hair tangling as the wind whipped through it, the car tearing down the quiet road. It was weird not having people or noise around him. New York's cities were alive all the time and Los Angeles was just the same. 

“Your face was priceless just then. I figured, if we're doing a tour, I should start with one of the best views in all of Los Angeles. Hope that's okay?” They slowed down and turned up a dirt street, trees closing in before disappearing altogether as they pulled out into a dusty opening. “We're going to have to hike a little ways to get there.”

He looked around. There were a bunch of people here already, coolers and dogs and children littered across the clearing. He followed after Dolph. Curiosity burned under his skin, and they were on a tour...

“Where are we, mister tour guide?” They started up a trail, easier than the ones he hiked with John previously, closing his eyes against the gorgeous sunshine. Dolph greeted some returning hikers and paused until Mike was next to him. 

“It's called Griffith Park. A very popular tourist attraction. And you'll see why when we get to the end.” They walked for a while, chatting, taking pictures (well, Mike was taking pictures. Like a cliché tourist.), greeting people. Apparently, it was some unspoken hiker rule to wish each other a safe hike, which he's never heard of before but was happy to partake in. The end of the trail came sooner than he expected, and he was greeted with a wonderful sight. 

“The Hollywood sign.” His voice was hushed, like he might wake a sleeping giant. Like he was in the presence of royalty. Dolph chuckled, hands on his hips as he squinted up at the infamous letters on the mountain. He's probably seen them a million times in his life, but Mike's only ever seen them in movies or pictures. Never so close. Never in real life. “Incredible.”

“Everyone seems to think so. Does wonders for getting laid, if that's your thing. Which, here? Pretty common.” Mike nudged him, rolling his eyes as he walked closer to where the sign was. It was surreal, standing there. And he could see why it got people a lot of action. There was no feeling like standing there, miles away from civilization, looking around and having your breath taken away. Couples coming up there would be impressed. Romanticized. Spellbound by the beauty and glamour. 

And, well, he could admit he was falling for it too. But he wasn't interested in getting kicked out because a kid with his parents stumbled upon them. He directed his gaze over to the city, pleased with the view.

“I figured this was a good starting point. If you have the time, we can go back and hit some other hot spots. I'm a bit rusty on tourism, having lived here since I was born, but I'll do my best to give you the full California experience.” Dolph was coming up behind him, so he turned to look over his shoulder and, as cheesy as it sounds, he managed to lose a few breaths. Just for a moment. Quickly, he returned to picking out buildings in the city. Watching cars move. People walk. Life being lived far below. 

It was insane.

“Thank you. This is pretty cool.” Dolph shrugged, having come to stand next to him and skimming his gaze over the buildings. He looked thoughtful, nodding slowly to his thoughts before flashing Mike a dazzling smile. 

“Go over there. I'll take your picture with the sign.” Mike snorted but Dolph didn't buy his act. “ _Go._ Everyone wants that damn shot. Hurry up.” He did as he was told, but when he got a good distance away he froze. As confident as he was, and as much as he was used to performing and posing in front of crowds, he was never great at taking pictures. A wood beam looked more relaxed and natural in a picture than he ever did.

What the hell did a 'casual' pose look like anyway? How do you pretend to be candid? One look at Dolph's face and he knew he was failing miserably, as he usually did.

“At least pretend you're happy to be here. Geeze. I thought this was a good idea, but I guess the sign makes you constipated.” That made him burst out laughing, his rigid pose breaking for a moment. Then Dolph was standing, swiping his finger across the screen and giggling. Wonderful. He really hated his stupid non-photogenic self. 

A pretty woman approached Dolph before he could make his way back down and his first instinct was to bristle. He had no reason to feel like that, but that didn't stop his smile from dropping and trying to figure out what she was saying. 

Whatever it was had Dolph looking flustered, and he was going to interrupt until Mike's phone was handed over to her and Dolph joined him. “She asked if we wanted her to take a picture for us, and I figured why not? You mind?” Mind? So long as she wasn't batting her lashes at him, Mike wouldn't care what happened.

“Fine with me. Maybe you can help me learn to pose. I swear I take the worst pictures ever.” Dolph rolled his eyes and launched into this ridiculous story about something he did with his brother when they were younger. Something involving a closed movie set, a horrible disguise, and getting chased by burly guards and a camera crew. At the last second, Dolph threw an arm around him and, with tears in his eyes from how hard he was laughing, a picture was taken. Probably. And he realized he didn't feel tense or fake. Which meant it was probably a good picture. For once.

“Lemme see.” Dolph handed the phone over after thanking the lady, who smiled at them again and wandered off. Mike swiped through the pictures (a lot more than he realized she'd been taking), and to his surprise they were all decent. Like, he hated his smile most of the time – looking more like a man crying out for help than someone happy to be where he was – but these were wide and genuine smiles. Some of them he was laughing in too. The ones Dolph took were similar, and he was pleased to find the perfect one for Instagram. His arms were crossed and he was grinning down at the camera. Looking happy, and decidedly not like a stiff board.

“Come on. There's still a lot of LA to show off. I'm sure you have a dancer's curfew so we better get a move on.” He snorted as he came across a couple of selfies Dolph took before taking the ones of Mike by the sign. And, well, he could admit they looked good. He wasn't one to waste a good picture. Maybe against his better judgment, he decided to keep them. 

“So, what do you want to see first? Most people want to go walk along the Hollywood Stars. You've already seen the best beach in the state- at least in my humble opinion. We could hit the Sunset Strip.” They got in the car and headed back to the main road. Mike didn't know much about California in general, and other than the Hollywood glitz and glamour he knew even less about LA itself. But what he did know was that he didn't want a tour anyone could have. 

“Don't take me on a Tour de Los Angeles. I could pay for one of those if I wanted that. Take me on _your_ tour. I want to see the parts of this city the locals love.” They were sat at a light, Dolph sliding his sunglasses off and giving him this long look. 

“If you're sure.” 

They didn't see the Sunset Strip, Venice Beach, or the infamous Santa Monica Pier. Mike didn't get to look at the Hollywood stars, and they didn't see a single celebrity hangout. They didn't take a stroll down Hollywood Boulevard either. But he found an interesting store that sold rare and unique gifts – some of them handmade - and listened to one of the most beautiful songs he's ever heard played right there on the sidewalk outside a dingy club. They watched part of a musical, played with some dogs while talking to a lady about weird conspiracies, and ate genuine gelato from a nice Italian man in an empty shop on the corner. 

It was exactly what Mike was hoping for, and he hated for it to end. At least John promised to take him out on Saturday. This city, much like Manhattan, had its own special charm. Once you got past the touristy aspects everyone else clung to. It was a beautiful place, and he was so grateful he was chosen to fly across the country and experience it. 

“There's one more thing I want to show you. And hopefully, we aren't too late to get there.” If Mike was having the best time soaking in all these little parts of LA no one outside of the city knew about, Dolph was glowing as a personal tour guide. It was obvious he loved his home and everything it had to offer, which translated perfectly while he was telling Mike about little shops people ignored for Hot Topic or when he sat on a bench and stared up at the sky. Happy.

It was always nice, seeing someone so in love with and passionate about their home, that kind of intense loyalty instantly contagious. Mike felt that way about New York, and even more so with Cleveland. Which he just so happened to share with Dolph, who was currently comparing the winters between the two states and griping about ice and snow. Most people who lived there – who called Ohio their home – complained about the weather, but deep down they all loved a snowy white blanket outside their window. Waking up to clouds heavy with precipitation, roads closed off and forcing them to stay home and just...relax. Cocoa on the stove and fireplaces crackling. 

New York offered all that, but on a bigger scale. And it wasn't nearly as nice as his small town back home, but he couldn't complain when the snow was just as pretty. Even if it was on tall buildings instead of towering pine trees. 

“Here we are.” He pushed out of his thoughts and looked around. They were once again out of the city, seemingly parked just outside of a patch of woods that overlooked the ocean, and the sight of the sun melting into the crystal waters...

Was it cliché to have your breath (literally) taken away by a scene like this? Probably. But he didn't care. He didn't get to see much of this in New York, and he couldn't deny that he was impressed. The car shut off, Dolph leaning back in his seat and staring out the windshield. Oranges and golds highlighted his handsome face, and suddenly the view ahead was drab and plain compared to him. Which, okay, _that_ was a terribly stupid and cheesy thought. But not completely untrue either.

He glanced away before he was caught staring like a lovesick teen and admired the sunset once more. 

“This another one of those secret places Californians have as their magic card to get laid with tourists? Because I could see it.” He realized, belatedly, how that would come across considering their relationship, but Dolph merely laughed. 

“I supposed it could be. I, um, prefer to come here alone, though. Whenever I want a break from city life and noise. To think.” Their gazes met, Dolph's detouring over him for a moment before he smiled and shrugged. “Though I can certainly see why people might bring someone up here, hoping to get lucky. It's a gorgeous spot.”

“And then there's you. Mister Thinks-Deep-Thoughts-While-Staring-At-The-Sunrise-or-Sunset.” He opened the door and climbed out, taking a deep breath of clean salty air. Dolph joined him at the hood of the car, sitting together and watching the birds play down by the water. 

“I've always been a bit of a nerd. A soft touch, I think one guy called me.” He didn't think through what he said, and now he could see that might come off as making fun of him, but he actually hadn't meant it as a bad thing. Dolph was deeper than the hormonal idiots trying to entice girls (or guys) into having sex with them by dragging them to these magical hot spots. It was nice. Refreshing. Even a bit charming.

“Nothing wrong with that. Sensitivity is the cool thing now. Girls love a guy who's in touch with their emotions. I should know. Girls hated me because I didn't know how to handle mine back then. I thought emotions were weak and that girls liked an asshole.” Dolph shook his head, laughter turning soft. Leaning back on his arms and keeping his sights on the horizon.

“Good to know for that day I decide I'm done being gay.” His brain tripped over the words – spoken softly and in good humor - and it occurred to him this was the first time either of them spoke about their sexuality to each other. It wasn't something they ever mentioned- merely acted upon. 

“Well, you know...generally speaking. I'm sure guys like it too. I guess I'm just used to talking with my friends about it.” They were silent for a while, the sun slipping away and leaving the sky blazing red. He startled when he felt something brush along his fingers, which were splayed out against the hood and holding him up. Dolph wasn't looking up at him, instead laying over the front of the car with his head propped in his hand, lightest brush of his fingertips across Mike's skin. Starting from his fingers, up his arm, and then their eyes met once again as the touch burned along his jaw. It wasn't too difficult to read his gaze, Mike's mouth drying out and breath catching in his throat.

Parents always warned their kids about getting caught up with drugs. That, if you start with what they called a 'Gateway Drug', soon enough you would be tangled in stuff that was less fun and more harmful. Make you dependent on the substance; so much so, you're willing to do anything to get your hands on it. To reach that high you get when the drug invades your bloodstream. Always left wanting more. He never touched anything other than alcohol and the occasional painkiller (when he sprained his ankle trying to master a tricky twist), so he never dealt with the insane addiction – the need and want and desire – that came with harder drugs.

If he could imagine what it was like, however, he would guess it was similar to what being with Dolph has been like these past few months. In the beginning, everything is cautious. Too afraid of the warnings people give you to dive right in. And then, once you do and see it isn't as bad as what everyone said, you jump in with both feet. And everything – in the beginning – is absolute bliss. It's intoxicating in the best way, and every contact – every hit - was this consuming flame that he couldn't get enough of. It grabbed hold of you, dragged you in, and bathed you in this golden glow. And, stupidly enough, he still felt he was in control- that at any time he could back away and return to how things were before.

But, the longer this went on, the more he tasted, the harder it was going to be to untangle himself. He's heard about the horrible withdraws people who were addicted to heroin went through. The terrible dry-outs alcoholics had to go through. He knew the risks in the beginning. He wasn't stupid. But at the moment, he couldn't think of the consequences of his decisions. When you're lost in the high, it's too difficult to see how fast you're falling to the ground below. 

As he was leaning back on the car, a gorgeous man laying over him and making artwork with his teeth along his neck, he had the funny thought that this was nothing like him at all. Making out on the hood of a car over-looking one of the more picturesque scenes he's ever seen, fingers digging into warm skin as the air between them electrified. Even as a teenage boy with raging hormones he wasn't like this about someone. Usually, they just made out on the couch while his parents were out. Or maybe got a little handsy while sitting in a dark movie theater. Normal teen antics. 

Checking off places in his head, he just couldn't believe it was him doing any of it. On the beach at the crack of dawn. In the studio in broad daylight. And now on a freaking car if he was reading this right. 

And oddly enough, he wasn't against it. Any of it. 

There had to be something in the air. Or maybe something about the man specifically. Because this was so unlike him. Especially at this point in his life. He didn't even go out with Ty and Lex to the clubs back in New York. Dance was his everything. He didn't do hookups. After he started training, he didn't do serious dating either. 

But now, here he was...

“Ouch!” He jerked back and met playful blue eyes. 

“Just making sure you're still with me. We've been like this for around five minutes and you haven't said a thing.” A flash of curiosity. “You okay?” Here he was teasing Dolph about being a thinker and yet he was doing the exact same thing; though maybe not at the best time. 

“I will be. Didn't know you were half-vampire, by the way.” His lame joke had Dolph rolling his eyes, though he could see the smile being poorly hidden by biting his lip. And how was it he had this gorgeous man with him and was thinking about his life and how weird California was? Those were thoughts better left for when he was laying in his bed, trying to sleep. Not here. Not now.

Mentally pushing them aside, he quickly tried to reignite the fire from a few moments ago, running his hand up a muscular back and moving to sit up. And was left blinking in surprise when he was pushed back down- hard. Silhouetted by the sunset, it was like he had some sort of deity leaning over him. A powerful and otherworldly being that shouldn't be anywhere near this plane of existence, and certainly not near Mike and his stupid rabbit-trail thoughts.

Whatever he did to deserve such a simultaneous blessing and curse...

“Nuh-uh. You're not going anywhere.” Well, how could he argue with that? Mike let himself relax, the sun-warmed metal burning through his shirt. Just nearly as hot as the fingers holding onto him.

“I wasn't...trying to.” This had to be one of the more uncomfortable and yet completely sexy things he's ever done. How much did this car cost? And he was probably seconds from adding it to the growing list of places he's had sex in California? Geeze. Was this his life? How much more insane was it going to be if he got his dream?

“I just wanted to apologize for, you know, drifting off. Trying to make up for zoning out.” Could he shove his foot farther in his mouth? Honestly, he needed to just stop talking – at least around him – because apparently his brain decided to take a vacation and left his mouth unsupervised. 

Dolph merely hummed in response, drawing back and looking around for a minute. Contemplating something, and now Mike was worried he messed up. Maybe he wasn't going to be adding 'on the hood of a fire engine red Ferrari' to his list after all. Shame. If he ever told his friends what happened in LA, they would have died. Which he wasn't because it was better left as a fever dream than something he thought about once he left this place. 

Dolph leaned in close once more, a thrilling smile sliding across his lips as he pressed a kiss into his mouth. It was slow, warm, like melted chocolate, and had Mike craving more. When he made no move to leave, kissing him harder and more thoroughly, Mike laughed. Really, did he _laugh_ right when they were getting back into it? Leave it to him to somehow kill the mood every single time.

“What's so funny?” Nothing, damn it. Why did he do these things?

“Um, nothing.” Dolph leaned back, giving him a weird look. _Mike the Mood Killer_ strikes once again. 

“Er, okay?” How did he manage that? Everything around them was perfect – sexy car, gorgeous background, no one around – not to mention the beautiful man watching him. And yet he kept messing it up. Someone pull this old horse from the race before he embarrasses himself any further!

“I was just- It's stupid. But, I thought we were gonna...you know. And then you were looking around, so then I thought oh, maybe we're not. And now I'm thinking I was right the first time and also that I am a massive idiot for even thinking that's funny.” Dolph's laugh was breathy and soft, confusion being quickly replaced by mild amusement. And something so warm it melted Mike to the core. 

“The only thing you're an idiot about is thinking I wouldn't take the opportunity to have you right here. Right now.” If he was having chills despite the warm weather and the sticky humidity in the air, well, he wasn't going to fess up to that. Even if no one would blame him if they too could see the look he was getting at the moment. “As for before, I was trying to figure out how I wanted to do this. Where I wanted you. I mean, it's not every day you have a sleek and luxurious sports car, a gorgeous sunset on the water, _and_ an unfairly attractive man all in the same place. But I figured here is as good as anywhere for someone as impatient as me right now.”

He couldn't refute that logic. It was nice, how they balanced each other out. How, when Mike inevitably managed to be his awkward self, Dolph not only wasn't bothered by it but managed to keep things flowing naturally. As if there weren't any hiccups or road bumps along the way. It was kind of amazing, if he thought about it, but he already got distracted once. He could save his wonder for bedtime. 

Dolph brushed fingers along his jaw, kissing down his neck once more. Sending tingles down to his toes and keeping him planted firmly in the moment. Propped on his elbows and soaking it all in. Birds called out to each other and he could just make out the sound of the water far below them, knocking his head back and closing his eyes. He brought a hand to Dolph's waist, gripping the shirt in his fingers and swallowing down the lump in his throat, letting out a soft gasp as his lungs begged for more oxygen. 

Every particle of his being, down to the electrons buzzing around in the atoms that made up _'Mike'_ , craved more. So much more. It made him restless- like there was an itch under his skin he couldn't soothe no matter how much he scratched at it. This was nice, but he needed more. He might explode or rip his skin apart if they didn't move along. It hurt, his blood boiling and a fever washing over him.

He nearly collapsed on top of Dolph, who decided to roll them over while Mike was drowning in the sensations. His eyes popped open and hands came down hard against the shiny red metal on either side of this...enigma. Just barely catching himself. Dolph chuckled softly, dragging his hands up his back and down his side. Watching him with this look...it was hard to explain. It burned him inside out, made him feel like he was flying and falling at the same time. But Mike didn't want to dwell too long on it. They were running out of daylight, and he didn't want to be stuck out there in the night.

It was dark when they made it back into town, Mike giving directions to the dorms while music played quietly from the radio. Lights reflected off the hood as they crawled through the streets, jammed with people and traffic, drawing his attention every so often and making him blush each time. It was insane, the things this man had him doing. And not reluctantly or with a hint of hesitance. No, he was willing. He was eager.

They stared up at the dorm building for a minute and then Dolph cleared his throat, drawing his attention easily. 

“Have a good night, Mike.” He wanted to say something cheesy, along the lines of 'it's already been pretty great so far', but he bit it back and offered a smile instead.

“Thanks. You too. And thank you again for today. It was fun.” He climbed out of the car and stretched, his legs protesting at the sudden movement. Dolph waved a last time and drove off into the night, Mike trailing his gaze after the taillights until he could no longer pick them out and then heading inside.

Since Christmas was around the corner, Fandango decided to give his students a little project. They were broken into groups of three or four and told to pick a Christmas song to choreograph and present to the class. Ty was in Mike's group, along with Maryse and this guy named Xavier, and right now they were arguing over what song they wanted to perform. Well, Ty and Xavier were arguing. Mike just kept suggesting whatever Christmas-y themed song he could think of, rolling his eyes when they were constantly shot down. Maryse sat with her chin on her knees, looking between them like she was watching an intriguing debate or tennis match. He nudged her.

“Wanna take bets on if they end up making out after this?” She giggled and shook her head.

“We probably should get them on track, though.” Ty was singing the chorus of 'Santa Baby' while Xavier kept trying to play something from his phone. It was like Ty found his other half and finally got to see what they all had to deal with.

To say Mike was pleased with this development would be an understatement. 

In the end, they chose a mix of 'Carol of the Bells'. They were going to meet again on Wednesday at the studio to figure out a choreography they wanted to do and start practicing for their presentation. They all exchanged numbers as the class ended, Ty and Mike waiting outside for the rest of their crew to join them in getting lunch. 

“Hey, so I was wondering if you had any ideas for Christmas? Like, I figure we could do some gift giving and maybe do a little partying. Just at the dorms.” Mike leaned against the building, staring up at the sky and wishing there would be a flake or two before the holiday arrived. 

“We could do Secret Santa? Or maybe White Elephant? For the gifts. As for the party, my mom has this incredible Christmas dessert recipe-” Ty snorted.

“I didn't realize we were hosting a Christmas party at an office. Full of forty-year-olds. Mike, we're _young._ We're in Los Angeles! Can we at least have some liquor in the punch?” It wouldn't be Christmas with Ty unless he was hanging all over you, plastered, droning on about how much he loves you and wants to make your Christmas dreams come true and give you the gift of sex. With him. Really, it brought so much holiday joy. 

(Note the sarcasm...)

“Okay, but when you're drunk and trying to propose your usual Christmas presents, I wouldn't try Dream. I think he's still mad at you for buying decaf coffee and gingerbread creamer.” Carmella pushed the door open with an excited squeal, the others trailing after her chatting excitedly. Ty and Mike caught up to them, Summer pulling Ty in and singing (horribly off-key) 'Silent Night'. A few dirty looks were thrown their way, but they all carried on. 

Mike found himself at the back of the group and was joined by Carmella.

“I heard Tyler is throwing a Christmas party. There are so many stories about his...” She held up her hands, making air quotes. “...parties. Are they true?” 

“You mean, does he go insane and get us thrown out of places all night until we crash at someone's apartment? Pretty much. This year, he seems to at least want to keep it in the dorms. But, he's demanded alcohol, so if he starts looking at you and doing this weird eyebrow trick, run.” They followed the group into this cute sandwich shop, bell tinkling and a cheerful greeting ringing out. Carmella laughed and dropped her gaze, only to look up at him again with this amused smile. 

“I can't wait. Do you think he's going to get Fandango a present? I mean, I don't know if you've noticed yet, but they're getting pretty friendly. And it's so odd that he's not bragging about it or something.” He did notice, but he knew Ty was just in shark mode. Once he got his prize, then the bragging and stories would begin. 

“Believe me, you'll wish he was keeping it to himself. Once he actually has something juicy to share, we're ever going to hear the end of it. Trust me.” He ordered a sandwich and fruit, stepping aside so Carmella could get hers. Ty, Summer, Lexi, and Dream were jammed at a table meant to seat two, so Mike chose a seat by the window looking out at the street. Carmella joined him, unscrewing the cap from the bottle and giving him a long look. 

“Okay, I've been wanting to know this forever now. Were you guys ever, like, a thing?” Yep, he was choking on his sandwich. Carmella giggled, leaning forward to help in some way. A few good coughs and he was fine, though. 

“He wishes but no. Never. Ty is like... my baby brother. I can't even imagine sleeping with him, let alone dating. That would probably be a domestic disaster.” He picked up a grape, shaking his head. “He's dated Summer. Slept with half the classes at the academy. I guess you could say I'm the one who got away." She snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Did you guys pick a song yet? My group wanted the song from Mean Girls, but the one guy said he doesn't think he can pull off the outfits.” He motioned over to where Ty was stealing a fry from Dream, who was chatting up some girl sitting at a table beside them.

“We chose a fun remix of 'Carol of the Bells'. We're going to the studio Wednesday to work on it.” Once they finished lunch, everyone headed back to the dorms. Dream jumped on the couch as soon as they arrived, flipping on the television while Summer and Ty ran into the kitchen. Lexi excused herself, yawning and heading for her room. 

Later on, after dinner was cooked, eaten, and cleared away, they decided that they would do a Secret Santa for the gift exchange on Christmas. Christmas Eve, they would have the party, including Christmas Karaoke and most certainly alcoholic beverages. Which would be, with a pointed look at Mike from Ty, consumed in plenty. Summer suggested an Ugly Sweater aspect, but Ty shot it down because it was unfair to him seeing as he was 'so devastatingly good-looking, the sweaters wouldn't even be ugly' on him. Dream rolled his eyes but agreed he didn't want to do ugly sweaters. 

“What about...inviting people?” There went his idea of a quiet little party with just them. Ty thought it over for maybe three seconds before he nodded.

“I guess that wouldn't be bad. Everyone can have a plus one. Two at max since we have limited space and all of us inviting more than two people would make it uncomfortably crowded. Capisce?” So, they would be partying with Nattie's people then. Maybe he would invite Maryse to come along. Have someone there to talk to when everyone else was acting insane, singing about Santa and reindeer and grandmas, or knocked out on the floor. 

He hoped it didn't end up like Christmas 2012. 

Ty threw an arm around him, beaming. Oh no...

“I made that 'plus two rule' for you, Michael. I'm hoping you use it.” Right, like he was going to invite John and Dolph to a party where there was access to alcohol and Ty in the vicinity. Throwing himself off a bridge would accomplish the aftermath of that disaster much faster.

“I won't. Night.” 

Wednesday morning, Mike pulled into the parking lot of the studio, cutting the ignition and his morning meditation podcast. John got him into it recently, texting him for over an hour about how incredible it was and how it made him feel so relaxed all day long or whatever. Mike didn't mind trying something new, and he was enjoying the soothing sounds. Ty leaned forward and yanked the cord to Mike's phone out of the port.

“I'm in charge of the AUX on the way back. That nearly put me to sleep.” Naturally, meditation put Ty in a bad mood. Because he loved taking the laws set by nature and flipping a middle finger to them. 

“You could maybe try _doing_ the meditation. It feels great.” All those good feelings vanished when he glanced over at the door and saw a familiar figure leaned against it. Shit. He somehow forgot one of Dolph's new favorite things to do was hang around the studio while Mike ran through routines and screwed around for an hour or two. He had his stuff in hand, laptop bag draped across his shoulders, and headphones in his ears.

“Whoa-ho. Lookie there! Mike's little boyfriend is waiting for him. So sweet.” He smacked Ty's arm and climbed out of the car. How could he have forgotten? This was going to be a disaster. “Oh, look! He's spotted us.”

When they got closer to the door, Dolph put his music away and greeted them with a wave. Ty went ahead, shooting a wink back that Mike glared at, leaving them alone outside the glass studio doors. 

“I forgot to tell you. Our class- We're doing a group thing. And everyone decided to meet here. Man, I'm so sorry.” Dolph adjusted the things in his arms and shrugged.

“No big deal. Probably a good thing, actually. I have a lot to do and, well, you know how it often goes here.” Yeah. Mike practices or pretends to dance for about half an hour, then he distracts Dolph from his scheduling and paperwork by kicking it away and sitting in his lap. Not the most constructive sessions, but they were nice. Once, Dolph even got up and interrupted a serious run-through Mike was doing, pushing him up against one of the mirrors and laughing in his ear.

He shivered at the memory.

“Still, I hate that you came all the way out here. Brought your stuff.” Car doors slammed, and he heard familiar voices nearing them. That had to be Xavier and Maryse. Dolph tilted his head.

“Um, what do you mean? I can still work, can't I? I mean, it's no different than when you're dancing in there. Except probably less distracting.” Well, the others probably wouldn't mind. And he didn't want to make Dolph leave after he stood there and waited. Dragged all his stuff out there to work. 

“Hi, Mike!”

“Sup, Mike.” He turned to Maryse and Xavier, greeting them with a nod as they passed by and walked inside. Dolph followed them with his eyes.

“The rest of your friends?” Mike waved him inside and, as they walked down the hall, explained.

“No. They are from a rival academy in New York. Right now we're all working for the same team, so our choreography is going to be with them as well. We're doing a Christmas song for the class after Christmas.” Dolph made a noise of understanding, following Mike into the studio they normally used, Ty already warming up in the middle of the floor. Xavier crossed his arms, shaking his head as he watched Ty work. 

Yeah, they were going to be making out or something here pretty soon. 

Maryse bounded over, looking far too energetic for seven in the morning. How was it girls put on full makeup, did their hair, dressed up in cute outfits, and all at the most ungodly hours? Mike was hardly a person that early. The meditation was helping, and the coffee of course, but man. He couldn't imagine being her. She looked cute, but geeze was it exhausting to think about.

“I think I have the perfect routine for the chorus! It came to me yesterday while I was watching this show.” Great, because Mike had no clue what to do about 'Carol of the Bells'. He was a teacher and a decent choreographer, but this song wasn't exactly his style. Besides, it would be nice to get input from different dancers. See what their four brains could come up with.

“Great. Let's hope Breeze and Woods can get it together long enough to learn it.” Dolph sat off to the side while they warmed up, flipping through pages and tapping on his phone. Not paying them attention. Ty and Xavier bickered the entire time, though it was starting to sound more like flirting. After the warm-up, Maryse pitched her chorus, dancing through once to see what they thought. And it was good, better than any ideas they had. 

The morning passed lazily, Mike working up a sweat as they played the song yet again, this time adding on a collaborative idea from Mike and Xavier. Ty made a face at literally everything Xavier did, acting like he hated it when it was obvious he didn't. Maryse giggled with him as Ty stood there, arms crossed and head shaking, grilling every movement Xavier made. 

“Do you still think they will hook up?” She offered him a strawberry, which he kindly refused in favor of drinking his Gatorade. Xavier laughed when Ty tripped over his own feet and nearly fell over. Oh yeah. It was coming.

“Can't you see it? Look at them! They are like kids on a playground. The one boy chasing the person they like, maybe pushing them into the mud or laughing when they get angry. Guaranteed they will be all over each other.” Ty stomped away from where Xavier was smiling down at his shoes and snatched up a towel. Dropping down on his bag and covering his head. Maryse hummed, biting into a strawberry. 

There was movement out of the corner of his eye, and he found Dolph was packing up his things and standing. Glancing at his watch, he wondered why Dolph was leaving so soon. Barely half an hour passed; normally he had an hour or so before he needed to go be a trainer again. A very good one at that. His shoulders still burned from their session the day prior.

Excusing himself, he made his way over. Dolph flashed him an apologetic smile as he situated his belongings, sliding the laptop into its bag. A smile that he swore didn't make his heart drop into his stomach. It wasn't like he could demand every second of Dolph's time be spent sitting on the uncomfortable floor and watch him move around like an idiot. The man had a living to make. Clients to work with.

“You heading out?” He bent down to help clear some things, but Dolph snatched them up before he could and cleared his throat.

“Yeah. It's a little much in here today. Hard to, you know..” He tapped on his scheduling book and shrugged. “Sorry.” The sorry one was Mike, but he wasn't going to bitch and complain and throw a fit. He was an adult. Instead, he bit his tongue and offered to escort Dolph out to his vehicle, which he accepted with a shrug. While Dolph tossed his things in the passenger seat, Mike leaned against the door and examined the interior. He was riding in a truck today, one with red seats and a lanyard hanging from the mirror. Browns-themed, from what he could see. It made him smile.

“Nice truck you have here. I mean, not better than the Ferrari obviously, but it's cool. Nice.” The last thing he wanted at the moment was to watch this truck disappear down the road, Dolph's arm hanging out the window and something with screeching guitars and shrill vocals blasting from his speakers. So, yeah, he was wasting time with small talk. Trying to soak in the moments slipping past when he should probably get back and make sure Ty wasn't trying to kill Xavier. Nothing was making Dolph stay, he knew that, but something just didn't feel right about him leaving.

“Thanks. My brother was finished borrowing it so...” He waved his hand around for a moment, then dropped the thought and cleared his throat. “Anyway, good luck with the dancing. Not that you even need it. See ya.” 

Mike didn't like feeling like he was being dismissed, but he figured Dolph was probably running late to something and needed him to get the hint. So, he backed away, waving as Dolph pulled out of the spot and drove away. If anyone asked, he didn't watch the truck roll down the street, turn right at the light, and disappear from view. 

Gathering himself and trying to not look like he was about to start moping, he made his way back inside the studio and found the group working hard again. Maryse commanded power as she drilled them through the choreography again, but when Mike walked in they cut the music off and took a water break. Ty wandered over and, glancing at the door, threw an arm around him.

“Boyfriend had work? Sorry.” He sounded genuine, despite his teasing words. Mike shrugged him off and found Maryse, who was standing nearby, glancing between them. Brows furrowed. 

“That was- He was your...boyfriend?” Wonderful. Ty should just send out a mass memo that his trainer was supposedly his boyfriend. Look, if it was true he wouldn't mind anyone and everyone knowing, but since in _wasn't_ and _couldn't_ be true, he wished he would stop saying it to everyone. His other friends were still convinced they slept together after the charity event, and Summer even teased him about their 'relationship' as he left for yoga the other morning. 

One thing he was thankful for was that at least Ty didn't say anything like that while Dolph was there.

Probably afraid for his life, which he definitely should be. Jabbing his elbow into Ty's side, he shook his head.

“No he's _not,_ and I would appreciate if you maybe stop saying that to people. He's my personal trainer and a new friend I made here. We're not dating.” Maryse studied him for a minute.

“But you want to be dating him?” This, naturally, pleased Ty, who grabbed her in a hug and beamed at Mike over her head. Man, he hated all of them. 

“A woman after my own heart! Can we keep her, Mike? Can we?” Xavier swore and jogged over, Ty sticking his tongue out and trying to use Maryse as a shield against the other man. Lost in his thoughts, he wasn't able to chastise them like he normally would, leaving Maryse to crack the whip and get everyone back to work. 

When they were packing up and making their way to the door, Maryse stopped him and adjusted her bag. Ty and Xavier, still bickering, disappeared down the hall. Probably without even noticing Mike nor Maryse were with them. 

“You know, if you want to date that handsome trainer...” Nope. He crossed his arms and nodded after where Breeze disappeared.

“Don't listen to Breeze. He's been trying to write my love story since I've known him. Really, there's nothing. Dolph is a friend.” A friend he was entertaining in a distinctly more-than-friendly way at the moment, but she didn't need to know that. It was no one's business but his (and Dolph's) what was or wasn't happening. She examined him for a minute, shrugged, and led the way out into the warm winter sunshine. 

Friday morning brought heavy clouds, biting wind, and the kind of cold rain that chilled you to the bone. Thankfully he would be warmed up in a few minutes, jogging across the parking lot and pushing into the dance studio. Which was absolutely freezing, like someone cranked up the air conditioner for the last hour. Shivering in his sweatshirt, he hurried to the room they used, warmth spreading over him when he found Dolph already warming up. He watched for a minute before he couldn't take it any longer, stepping inside and offering a greeting that sounded far too happy for as dreary as it was outside. The hour they were meeting. Or the way his clothes stuck to him as he peeled off his outerwear.

He planned to keep working with songs Dolph was familiar with, and since dancers were obsessed with Britney, he figured he could teach him 'Break the Ice' after they finished 'Oops'. So far, they were progressing somewhat slowly, but it could be complicated to learn for someone starting out with absolutely no dance background. Hell, Mike struggled with it for weeks when he first tried to learn. How many times did he fall trying to perfect the movements in his bedroom?

(Too many to count, let's leave it at that.)

“Have I mentioned that John wants to kill you?” The song was queued and ready to go, but he couldn't help laughing. Because he could imagine John's irritation as he sat on the couch, or maybe at the table, forced to watch Dolph go through the same dance over and over. He acted the same way when Mike was learning steps to a new routine, throwing things at him until he collapsed on the ground laughing.

“Aw, he's such a great best friend. So supportive.” He shot Dolph a grin. “Good to hear, though, since it means you've been practicing. I'm used to John wanting to choke me until my feet stop moving. So don't stop that. In fact, do it more. Really get under his skin.” With that they launched into the routine, taking it at a quarter of the full tempo because Dolph was still trying to grasp a couple of the steps that would trip him up easily if they took it at even half-tempo.

After forty minutes of running through each individual movement at a painstakingly slow pace, he put on a different song and just let the music move him. Not worried if it looked good or even went with the song because he was tired of learning _steps._ Tired of perfecting his movements. He sometimes needed the reminder that dance was fun because...it was easy to forget that while struggling through a choreography. 

Dolph, meanwhile, was sipping his water and scrolling through his phone. Though, when Mike twisted around, running his hands over himself and moving his feet along to the bass, he caught eyes on him. There was nothing a performer loved more than knowing attention was on them, so rather than become self-conscious, he dug into the music. Writhing around the dirty floor like an idiot and then laughing as the music cut off while he was posing. 

“You know, even though I know you were just screwing around just now, I think you're better than, like, most of the dancers I've seen.” The compliment had him blushing head to toe, but he pushed himself to his feet and rolled his eyes. If you asked him, he could name fifteen better dancers than himself. There was no shame in knowing he had ways to go before he was at the level he wanted to be at; it's what pushed him each and every day to get out of bed and hit the floor. 

“If John is included in the dancers you see, that isn't saying much.” Dolph shook his head, pocketing his phone and leaning against the mirrors.

“I'm serious. Like the charity thing last month? Even just this past Wednesday. You're better than you think.” His gaze remained steady, even if he laughed awkwardly. “I just thought you should hear that.” It was nice to hear, no matter how outrageous it was. Because there was no way he was better than Ty or Maryse.

“Well, um, thank you. I don't agree with your assessment, but I won't deny that made me feel pretty good just now. Though I now know you're not the person to ask if what I'm doing looks correct. Because if you think I'm better than Ty, well...” He trailed off when Dolph's sunny gaze faltered and he pushed away from the mirrors. There was this feeling he said something wrong – that Dolph was upset with him - but he wasn't sure what it was. It was a known fact that Mike said something dumb often- and with Dolph, it was almost doubled. Like, it was embarrassing. 

“Let's get something constructive done for you before I need to go.” Mats were laid out on the shiny floors, but the mood in the room matched the stormy weather right outside the window. Dolph was knelt down next to one, glancing over at him imploringly. He could over-analyze himself later.

But he didn't have to wait too long to find out what was bothering Dolph, the plank he was stuck in leaving him unable to do more than tremble and curse whoever it was who decided this was a good idea. He hated planks.

“I know I'm not the most...knowledgeable when it comes to dancing technique. I think the past hour was a great example of how far removed I am from it. Just like I wouldn't expect you to critique my workout plans, I wouldn't want you looking to me for dancing tips.” He collapsed on the floor just seconds before the timer beeped, turning to look at Dolph over his shoulder.

“Hey. Man, I was making a joke. About the... Look, I appreciate what you said. I do. I'm just so used to being in Ty's shadow, you know. It isn't very often I'm told someone likes what I do better than him.” Dolph had him roll over to do twenty pulse crunches, looking thoughtful.

“He is good. I won't deny there's something artistic about how he dances. But, I don't know, you just look better doing it, maybe.” He wasn't allowed to look away from the ceiling because it would hurt his neck or something, but he grinned. Now _that_ was brilliant to hear. 

“You should see him when he's in his element. The way he commands the stage and mesmerizes a room.” He hit twenty and flopped back on the mat, trying to catch his breath. “If I can be as half as good as that, I'll be happy.”

To his delightful surprise, Dolph fit himself over him, arms braced on either side of his head and watching him with dreamy eyes. There was a hint of frustration there too, like Mike was being difficult, but then it disappeared in the second before their lips met. A brief kiss. Teasing. Dolph sighed, searching his face for a moment when he pulled back and then shaking his head. 

“I think everyone you know could line up and tell you what I know is a fact and you'd still think it's not true. Find some way to argue with them.” Mike went to say something, but the words died away when hips moved against his with more purpose. Glancing at the door and praying no one needed the room in the next few minutes, he ran his hands along thighs and let himself get lost in the music. 

Christmas was fast approaching and Mike was stuck. He was the kind of gift-giver who took his role very seriously, searching everywhere he could for the absolute perfect gift. Like the wool sweater he got his mother a few years ago that he knew she was dying to have. Or the vintage record he got for a friend back in college. He took pride in making people light up when they opened his present, and he never liked feeling like he didn't get the best possible thing out there for whoever it was he was shopping for. 

Since they decided to do the Secret Santa, he only had to get one gift – for the person he chose – and he was stumped. He's known Lexi for years, but the girl's taste was all over the place and seemed to change day-by-day. Sneaking into her room while she was out getting massages with Ty and Carmella gave him nothing, and he didn't know who to turn to in order to find out what tickled her fancy these days. 

He popped into the unique store Dolph showed him a few weeks back, desperate to find something for Lexi. John stood up from where he was examining some pouch that looked handcrafted, removing his sunglasses and offering a hand to shake. Mike rolled his eyes and hugged him, then bending down to pick up the thing he'd been examining. 

“Christmas shopping, or just window shopping?” The store owner, a kind older lady with leather skin and sunshine for a smile, greeted him quietly as she passed. John gestured around the store.

“Shopping for a gift. I've gotten through most of my list, but my cousin is so difficult. Fifteen with the soul of someone who lived in the eighteenth century. I'm hoping something in here will be interesting and 'not ridiculously pop culture trash' enough for her.” They moved through the aisles, nothing striking either of them right. John did buy a few artfully crafted mini-chests and a dreamcatcher. 

“Well, didn't you say she wears a lot of cartoony stuff?” They were sipping smoothies and watching cars crawl past. Tourists took selfies across the street, the guy playing guitar looking annoyed at them. 

“Yeah. Like, a tiger. And Tinkerbell.” John hummed, stirring his Strawberry Sunset Blast. 

“Maybe Disney? I had a girlfriend who was obsessed with that kind of stuff. She loved everything Mickey Mouse and Winnie the Pooh. I don't get it, so don't ask.” Huh. That might just work. It was the one constant thing he could remember about Lexi- her cartoon shirts.

“I think you hit the money, JoMo. Thanks.” His friend leaned forward.

“So, what are you getting me? I wear a size twelve shoe. Um...I don't do hats. If you get me a candle, I'm coming to New York and hiding something foul-smelling in your place. I swear.” Mike didn't doubt that for one second. He already knew John hated candles, remembering vividly the stream of complaints when he opened Mike's bathroom cabinet and discovered his collection of candles. 

“Totally unrelated to what you're saying, but do you prefer cinnamon scents or pine forest?” They sat there for a few minutes in silence, enjoying the afternoon. Then Mike's smoothie was gone and they headed back to where the shop was they found each other. 

“Hey, so Tyler said you guys were having a Christmas party. And invited us.” Mike froze in his steps, horrified that Ty went over his head and just...invited John like that. He knew how much Mike didn't want them around his friends – specifically Ty when there was alcohol involved – and he apparently decided it didn't matter that they were _Mike's_ friends. “I have this feeling you don't want us hanging around them, so I figured I would bring it up with you. If you have a huge problem with it, we won't be there.”

“You keep saying 'we' and 'us'...” John snorted, turning to lean against the wall.

“Yeah. You might remember my roommate, a.k.a your personal trainer? The one you're teaching to dance? Which, by the way, I've been meaning to talk to you about that one.” Oh, look at the time. He needed to go...find Disney stuff.

“You know, I just remembered. There's this Disney shop just over there. So, I'll get going.” John grabbed his sleeve, giving him a deadpan look that Mike grumped at. 

“Could you at least show him another song? I'm being driven crazy by Britney! All the damn time.” Oh, well, he was going to love the next song choice. “Anyway, are you cool with it or not? I haven't told Dolph about the invite because I wanted to ask you since I figured if Tyler's inviting us, you were telling him you didn't plan on doing it yourself. He doesn't yet realize there's a reason he hasn't been invited over to your place to hang out, but I get it. That Tyler character is...intense. I promise he can't scare Dolph, though. Or me.”

“I mean, if I say no he's only going to throw a fit about it.” John smiled and pulled his shades back on.

“That's the Christmas Party spirit! See you Saturday.” Yay. His worst nightmare was about to come true. He couldn't wait.

He debated inviting someone since, technically, Dolph and John were Ty's guests. And didn't that make his anxiety rise the more he thought about it. He couldn't stop wondering what was going to happen when his friend groups came together; what embarrassing thing he was going to have to apologize for on Sunday.

After a deep stretch, he sat back and found Maryse packing her bag in the corner. Picking up her phone with a laugh. Well, it wasn't like her other friends wouldn't be there. He knew all of them were coming except for Xavier. Wait a minute...

“Hey, Maryse! Xavier!” They stopped just outside the door and waited for him. If Ty was going to go behind his back and invite Dolph, well, he could invite Xavier, right? It was fair. 

“What's up?” As much as Ty complained about every little thing Xavier did, Mike actually liked him. He was funny, he was chill, and he was fantastic at what they did. Their routine was going to be something to see with the little tweak Xavier made to it during today's class (and it was a nice bonus Ty bitched the entire time). Plus, apparently he was making them outfits? Which was just so cool.

“I don't know if you've heard, but we're hosting a little Christmas Eve party Friday night. If you don't have any plans - or weren't already invited - I know we'd love to have you.” They didn't hesitate in agreeing to come, and he couldn't wait to rub it in that he invited Ty's arch-nemesis. Which is what he did the second he saw him.

“You _what?!_ ” Yep. _Totally_ worth it.

“Merry Christmas. That's what you get for inviting John when I explicitly said I wasn't going to.” They trailed behind the rest of the group, who were excitedly singing another Christmas song. Ty groaned, shaking his head.

“I can't believe you. That's not the same as me inviting your best friend and your boyfriend. I _hate_ him!” Eyes turned to look at them at Ty's outburst, which he glared at.

“Stop calling him that and it definitely is. I didn't want them there and you don't want him there. So same.” He was going to be beyond stressed, trying to keep Ty from saying something insane or embarrassing to either of them. Hopefully, Xavier would keep him busy, though he doubted Ty would even acknowledge him in favor of enjoying the festivities. 

“You better be lucky it's Christmas and I'm trying to get on the 'Nice List'. Or I swear I'd pound you into the sidewalk for that.” It was an empty threat, though. Ty hated fighting, and he'd rather have his head shaved bald than punch Mike in the face. (His words, not Mike's.)

They got “Oops!” up to half-tempo, Dolph cheering when he got through it without messing up any of the steps or forgetting anything. Mike was pretty proud too, which is how Dolph ended up fixing himself in the mirror, skin flushed and hair wonderfully messy. One of the mirrors still had condensation on it, though at least it was no longer obvious what exactly was pressed against it to make it look that way. Once he finished packing up their things, he would get over there and clean it. 

“Oh, hey. John passed on your invitation to the Christmas thing you guys are hosting. Do we need to bring anything?” Ugh. Right. That was tonight. Christmas Eve came far too quickly for his liking. Normally, he couldn't wait for Christmas to roll around, but his holiday was being spent with his stomach twisted in knots. And he couldn't even drink any alcohol to take the edge off.

“No. We're not doing presents or anything. Just hanging out. Doing some karaoke. Eating. Lots of drinking, according to Ty.” His back ached, protesting when he straightened and moved to clean the mirrors. They were due for a good clean anyway.

“So, should I give you yours now or-?” He whipped his head around. Everything fizzled into static for a moment because...

“You- Um. Maybe? Or, you could just give it to me when you get to the place? I'm sure John is bringing his then.” Dolph chuckled, going over to his bag and digging around for a minute. Mike's fingers absently fiddled with the bottle in his hands, mind racing. He wasn't surprised Dolph got him something – he got him and John something too – but at the same time... He was freaking out a little bit. Which was stupid, right? Friends do gifts. This wasn't anything weird or special. He was just being sensitive.

Dolph pulled out what was indeed a present, sitting there for a moment looking at it before standing and handing it to him. It was beautifully wrapped (unlike the catastrophe that was Mike's heavy-handed wrapping) and had his name written in neat print. The second he touched the bow, Dolph smacked his hand.

“You open presents _on_ Christmas. Didn't your parents teach you that?” He tucked the present under his arm and shrugged.

“In my family, I was allowed one gift on Christmas Eve. I think it was to keep me from staying up all night so they could sneak the presents under the tree.” Dolph seemed to consider this and nodded.

“Okay. Fine. You can open it, but not now. Later.” Now he was excited, anxious, and nervous. All at once. And someone please save him from making an ass of himself on top of everything else. 

He dropped the gift carefully on his bag, in case it was something breakable, and then went on to clean the row of mirrors while Dolph typed on his phone by the door, apparently waiting for him even though he probably had better places to be. They walked out to the cars together, theirs the only ones in the lot because most people were getting ready for lunch with their families, not working on a dance routine.

“See you tonight!” They waved, Mike setting his things in the passenger seat and grinning when the truck horn honked as Dolph drove by. It was weird, how goofy and giddy he felt around him, but he brushed that off and focused on running through the Christmas choreography in his mind while driving back to the dorms. And, upon entering, found it completely transformed. Because Ty loved to go all out for the holiday.

“There you are! Great, hang these up along the wall, will you? You're the only one not afraid of standing precariously on a ladder that high up.” His eyes dropped to the shiny red and gold in his hands, eyebrow raised. “That from Mister Hot Stuff?”

“No. It's from the check-in lady at the dance studio, if you must know. And please don't call him that. I can't believe he's going to be here. I swear..” Lexi came over and offered a sympathetic smile. 

“We're all going to be keeping an eye on him. Don't worry so much! It's Christmas Eve.” He noted she was wearing yet another Disney-themed sweater and knew his gift was going to be perfect for her. Ty grumbled about being treated like a toddler, Mike scurrying to toss his things in his room so he could hang the lights. And then the wreaths, which he rolled his eyes at as Ty handed them up.

Dream and Summer worked in the kitchen on the hors d'oeuvres, Lexi stirring the punch and offering some to Ty and Carmella. He watched as she added more liquor three times before Carmella laughed and handed the cup to Ty, who downed both with a shout. This party was going to be a disaster.

“Hey!” He stepped aside so Maryse, Xavier, Seth, and a tall blonde chick could walk in, eyes wide as they gazed around the room. Yep, they spent all day decorating. It looked like any second, Santa's elves were going to come walking out of one of the bedrooms, ready to work on toys. Maryse hugged him as she passed, Ty shooting him a wink he threw a middle finger to. Christmas music was playing from the stereo, which Summer was standing in front of. She was in charge of the music, much to Dream's annoyance. 

“Wait! Don't shut it!” Pulling it open once more, he felt his throat close over and tighten. John grinned, snatching the Santa hat Mike was wearing and putting it on his head before shouting to the other guests that 'the party could officially start'. But, as was the case lately, his focus was drawn to Dolph, who was watching John's antics with a smile.

“I never realized he was big on Christmas...but actually he just loves a good party.” He looked great, dressed in a black long-sleeve and stone-washed jeans. Sporting the thickening beard he had earlier that morning, which was a gift itself. 

It wasn't fair how simple and dressed down he was, and yet his heart felt like he consumed too much caffeine. Felt like he might throw up and drop to his knees right there. He let the door slam shut and led the way into the living room area, where the party was mostly taking place. Ty was on his seventh drink already, laughing hard enough to nearly fall off the couch. Xavier and Seth had John locked in an argument about gaming, apparently a passionate topic for the trio. The karaoke was set up, food on the table- picked over but not dug into just yet. 

Things got far worse from there. The only good thing was that Ty was so busy being a host, he couldn't bother Dolph, who stuck to Mike all night. Except when he stepped away to grab something from the kitchen, passing under the entranceway with Maryse, who glanced up and pointed with a smile.

Mistletoe. Seriously? 

“Merry Christmas, Mike.” He kissed her briefly on the cheek, smiling and returning the words before hurrying through to find a snack to replace the pretzels Carmella didn't buy enough of. When he turned around, he nearly dropped the Doritos and Fritos on the ground, stunned. 

Okay, did someone slip him something in his food? Because there was no way his best friend was making out with...it had to be a hallucination. One that was thankfully stopped as Dolph pushed him back some, laughing while keeping Ty from grabbing him again. See? This was why he wanted to either have no alcohol or keep Dolph and John out of there. Crazy drunken shenanigans like _that._

In a blink, he found himself standing between them, glaring at Ty until he finally focused on who was standing there. Then he cried out excitedly and tried to kiss him too, which was just too much for him. He spotted Summer and called her over, gesturing to Ty and breathing a sigh of relief when she carted him away without question or comment. Dolph dusted of his now wrinkled shirt, looking a bit confused but thankfully in good humor. 

“I'm sorry about him. He gets like that when he's had a lot to drink.” Dolph waved it off, hands now in his pockets and a faint green stain across his lips from Ty's stupid holiday drinks. Ugh.

Once he picked up the chips again and made his way back through the doorway, Dolph caught his arm and titled his head, glancing upwards with a clever smile. He was pretty lucky the bags in his hands didn't pop, he was squeezing them so hard. With a deep breath, he pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek and darted away to fix the snacks.

Later, sitting alone in his room, he picked up the present and ran his thumb across the shiny paper. It was light, flat, and rectangular. Just before they left for their Uber, Mike handed them their presents with strict instruction to unwrap them in the morning. But, well, Dolph did give him permission...

Once he undid the bow, he tore into the present, ripping it open and staring down into the box. Carefully, he removed it and tossed the box away, running his fingers over the cool metal and laughing.

It was a beautiful picture frame – 'California' along the bottom, two palm trees on the sides – and inside was a picture he forgot they took. Someone helped them take the picture so they could all be in it together, John's glasses snatched off in the last second by Dolph. It wasn't a good picture by any means; Mike was the only one looking at the camera. Dolph was laughing, reaching across Mike to take the sunglasses. John was trying to grab them back, and if he remembered correctly he was nearly nailed in the crossfire. No, it wasn't good, but it was perfect. He absolutely loved it.

Before turning in for the night, after his shower and stretching, he picked up the picture frame again, staring at the captured scene with a bittersweet pinch in his chest. Because it was a wonderful memory, but soon they would all be washed wash away like sand on the beach. And he found himself dreading that day more and more.

Waking up to knees in his ribs and rancid alcohol breath in his face was not one of his favorite ways to greet the day. Ty was heavy and groaning like he might be sick. Which, no, not in his bed. Thankfully he wasn't hungover, or Ty would probably just be kicked onto the floor. 

“If this is payback for that day you helped me when I was hungover, lesson learned.” Ty hugged the toilet, crumpled on the floor and refusing to move an inch. Mike sat on the edge of the tub trying to wake up enough to be of any help to Ty. Between the late hour he went to sleep and the severe lack of coffee in the morning thus far, it was a tough battle. He didn't even know what time it was. 

“Come on you lazy guppies! We're ready for presents!!” Ty finally made a sound, groaning loudly and looking like he wanted to crawl in the bowl and drown himself. The last time he was this hungover was his twenty-fifth birthday. He must have been so out of it.

Remembering what he had hoped was just a bad dream, he knew the alcohol had to have hit him harder than it normally did. It still made his skin crawl uncomfortably, thinking of it, and he wished he could have at least gotten drunk after that to erase it from his memory. Because he didn't need _that_ popping up randomly in the future.

“Come on. We better go before the kids start rioting.” He helped Ty to his feet, holding his breath because his breath was bad enough to curdle cheese. First, a detour to Ty's room to get a toothbrush. Then attending to the kids. 

In his house, every Christmas started with Mike jumping out of bed and admiring the mounds of snow outside his window. The way color was swallowed up by the thick blanket of white calling out to him. Promising snowball fights with his friends, building a fort with his dad, and making snow angels until his mother called him in to change and get warm, always afraid he would catch a cold. Then he would put on his slippers and tip-toe down the stairs and admire all the presents Santa brought him that year. 

The hardest part was resisting the urge to jump on his parents and alert them that presents were waiting for a little boy's hands to get hold of, instead sitting on the couch and pretending to be interested in books or magazines left around on the coffee table. When he was a bit older, he even got around to making coffee for his dad so there would be less time wasted waiting and more time tearing into stuff he could brag to his friends about. 

As an adult, it became less about the presents he got and more about the ones he gave, but the childhood spirit for the holiday never went away. Even with a hungover Ty leaning on him, barely moving the toothbrush around enough to clean his teeth, and no coffee in his system, he was thrumming with excitement. Barely able to keep still. He would mourn the lack of snow and nippy air as he drank his coffee and watched 'A Christmas Story' on the couch, but it was only the one year. He would be okay.

They arrived to cheers, everyone already holding packages and bags in their laps. It was nice having friends all as equally into the holiday as himself; even if _some_ of them got a little carried away. Ty dropped heavily next to summer, whining about the sun trickling into the room, Dream handing over a pair of sunglasses sitting on the end table next to him. 

His Secret Santa was Summer, who gifted him a gorgeous scarf and designer shoes. It would be nice to have shoes that weren't worn down to nothing on the bottom. Lexi loved the Mickey & Minnie gift basket he had put together at the Disney shop, pulling on the sweater and thanking him over and over and over for the 'absolute most perfect gift'. And hugging him until he was gasping for breath, laughing when she hurried back to her seat and nearly forgot to give Ty his gift. 

He wondered if Dolph and John opened theirs yet. So far he didn't have any messages from them, but he knew how much John liked sleeping in. And a holiday probably wouldn't change that fact. After gifts, he turned on Christmas movies while everyone stored their things and Dream got breakfast/lunch ready. Carmella poured a glass of Chardonnay and sat her feet on the ottoman, looking like a content mother after her kids got through their gifts and now she could get to what she truly wanted to do: watch cheesy Hallmark movies. 

After posting a picture on Instagram of his gifts and adding a story of what he was watching with the 'rolling eyes' emoji because Carmella changed it while he wasn't paying attention and it was indeed a cheesy movie about some Christmas prince, he settled back into the couch and scrolled through his feed. Occasionally glancing over at the movie playing and getting caught up in whatever highly-unlikely story was currently being shown. Honestly, though, who enjoyed this stuff?

Around lunch his phone finally buzzed, Ty's brows raising. The effects of his hangover were still there – tired, bloodshot eyes; wincing whenever someone made a noise that was too loud; drooping shoulders – but apparently not even a blasting headache and occasional nausea weren't enough to stop him from trying to butt into Mike's life. He ignored the texts though, finishing his meal while everyone talked about what their families usually did to celebrate the holiday. 

Alone in his room, he dropped on the bed and unlocked his phone. Laughing at a series of texts from John.

_dolph is harassing me so now im awake. He's one of you...christmas freaks._   
_okay now were to gifts while the coffee is brewing and AND IF THIS IS A F****** CANDLE..._   
_my phone wont write fucking unless I type it out_   
_MICHAEL I F****** SWEAR_   
_oh...okay_   
_Thank you! Merry Christmas, Mizrald._

Mike snorted and sent back a simple _welcome, asshole xx_ before clicking on the other text notification. Unlike John, there was only one new message in this thread. He liked to think it was because Dolph was awestruck by his gift, but he couldn't help but worry if maybe it wasn't the right thing to give him. If it was too much. Considering the sweet gift he'd been given, he sensed Dolph liked sentiment and meaning over price tags and fancy things. 

Was he disappointed? Did he think Mike one of those people who threw money around like it was nothing, flattering friends with fancy expensive presents? He wasn't; he just happened to get more expensive things because he could, but he always put thought and heart into it. Maybe he missed the mark this time. 

_cool gift, man. Thanks!_

He didn't have much time to worry about it, Sunday being spent in the studio perfecting their Christmas choreography. Ty and Xavier still bickered, taking a lot of the heat off Mike for once. Which was fine with him because he didn't feel like talking to Ty anyway. He still couldn't look at him without seeing him kissing Dolph in the doorway, right in front of him. Mistletoe or not, that was not cool. Because as much as Mike denied feelings and told Ty he didn't have a crush on the Californian, they both knew better.

So why he did that...

He chalked it up to being too drunk to realize who it was or what was going on, but he still couldn't brush off the irritation he felt. The betrayal, even if it made little sense to feel that way.

“Let's take a break, guys.” Mike knew he wasn't grooving right at the moment, and judging by the way everyone was looking at him, it was obvious he wasn't focused. While they drank water and argued over the outfits Xavier was designing for them (something about a Grinch one for Ty, which made him smile), he wandered over to his bag and sifted through its contents. Not looking for anything in particular, but more just trying to distract himself. And to seem busy so they didn't bother him.

A lost hope, of course.

“Hey, can you come over here and back me up? I swear, if that idiot actually tries to dress me in a sweaty furry costume and wear a stupid mascot head, he's going to find himself lost in the middle of the ocean.” Mike grunted, sitting on the floor and drinking out of his water bottle. A foot nudged him, which he ignored, and then Ty crouched next to him.

“Are you mad at me? If it's for the boyfriend comments, I'll stop. I didn't think you minded my teasing enough to be mad at me.” It wasn't fair to be mad at him; they all knew Ty was uncontrollable when he was drunk. But he couldn't help it. 

“I'm not mad at you for that. If you could still stop doing it, though, that would be nice.” Ty snorted and gave him an imploring look. 

“No promises. But if that's not it, then what is? Come on, Mikey! You know I hate when you're mad at me.” It was true. They rarely ever lost their temper at each other. And they were hardly ever truly mad about something the other did. Because no matter how annoying Ty was, or how difficult Mike could be, they knew each other well. They were brothers. They loved each other. 

But, when a brother did something that crossed certain lines, well...

“At the party- I know you probably didn't even realize what was going on or whatever. I mean, you were pretty hammered at that point. But, I can't get it out of my head. Which is so stupid because it's not even, like, a big deal.” Ty nodded slowly, watching him closely. 

“Well, what was it?” He checked to be sure Maryse and Xavier weren't listening and ran a hand through his hair.

“Under the mistletoe. You...and Dolph.” Barely able to spit the words out, he sighed and played with his shoelaces. “And I know, it's dumb. Feelings are dumb.”

Ty rolled his eyes and gave him a look. “Which is why you pretend you don't have any. I know.” He too checked where the other members of their team were and cleared his throat.

“Firstly, let me start by saying I'm now ninety percent sure you two are at least hooking up. Because it's sickeningly obvious when you're together, gosh. Second, I did that only partly because I was drunk off my ass.” Mike's gaze sharpened into a glare. That didn't sound like a good thing to him.

“Partly?” He nodded.

“I _was_ pretty drunk. Like, well on my way to passing out like I eventually did. But not too much to not notice the way he did not like seeing you with Frenchie.” What? What did Maryse have to do with anything?

“Come again?” Ty laughed, shaking his head.

“I'm not surprised you can't see it because you _never_ can. Carmella told me about the awwwwkward lunch you guys had until she told him you two weren't a thing. Einstein, get a clue. He was jealous.” No. Ty was wrong. Their...it wasn't like that. He was just uncomfortable because he thought they were dating and felt weird being like 'the other woman' sitting there. Maybe it looked like jealousy because Ty didn't know their relationship, but Mike was certain it wasn't like that.

“Or when he left early that one day we were practicing? Shortly after you and Frenchie were laughing together and looking _so cute?_ Jealous!” It made zero sense, so he chalked it up to Ty's dramatic ways and clipped his bottle shut.

“What does any of this have to do with you kissing him?” Ty snapped his finger and grinned.

“In my drunken wisdom, I wanted you to get an idea of how he felt. And, okay, maybe I wanted to kiss him too. I'll apologize for that. But mostly I was trying to show you.” So...he did it on purpose. Okay, now he was justified in being mad at him.

“So you assault him? Really? See, this is why I didn't want him around you guys. And John. Oh, please tell me you didn't kiss him too? I swear, Ty...” From now on, he was keeping his friends far away from John. And for the duration of their stay in California, Dolph too. Because that wasn't right.

“Oh calm down. It was a Christmas party. And it was Mistletoe. No one was assaulted.” He couldn't believe what he was hearing from someone who was supposed to be his friend. His best friend. Making out with someone he knew Mike was interested in? Right in front of him. Not a kiss on the cheek, or a peck. An uncomfortable five seconds or more of kissing. On the mouth. 

“I still don't understand why you felt the need to do that.” Ty groaned.

“Because you kissed Frenchie and made him look all like a kicked puppy. And now you get it. You're jealous, just like he was.” It didn't make sense. He had no interest in Maryse, and he felt it was pretty obvious. She knew. Everyone around them knew. A kiss on the cheek was pretty friendly, right? Nothing close to doing naked things with someone on the hood of their car. 

“You're wrong, and I would appreciate it if you maybe don't kiss my friends anymore. Come on, we've got work to do here. Show tomorrow.” Ty sighed and made Mike pull him to his feet, and then they were back to work, Mike able to focus better now that they talked it out. Even if it still made him want to strangle Ty. 

The performances were so fun, everything from 'Santa's Coming to Town' to songs he's never heard of before. Thumping bass and lyrics that maybe didn't have so much to do with Christmas and the season as it did to gifts and...the very liberal interpretation of that. Fandango praised every group, Mike tugging Ty into a hug when the instructor made special note of the passion and flair in Ty's dancing. 

They only had until Thursday before things would shift into gear for the festival, and Mike couldn't wait for that day. It was finally almost time to get to what they've been there four months for; the thing that would hopefully put Mike on the path to stardom. His gym sessions would be more focused- maybe reintroducing those toning exercises. He would rein his diet back in and lose himself in the long hours in the studio, the countless classes he would be attending and the conditioning he would be going through to impress the crowds. 

Man, he couldn't wait to get in front of a crowd again. Feel that adrenaline and soak in the lights, the sounds, the buzzing energy from the other dancers.

Tuesday morning, he explained to Dolph how the schedule would be changing after Thursday, classes taking up mornings and evenings every day but the weekend. When he brought up switching up the workouts they were doing, Dolph bit his pen and looked over something on the clipboard. 

“I think maybe we should do a progress measurement before you decide on that just yet. Look, I know you're excited about the festival, but you have to think of your health above all else. Especially as a dancer. Your body is your art- your pen and paintbrush. It's your livelihood. With the increased hours in the studio coming up...” He hated that he was right. There was an image in his head of what he could look like on that stage, and he wanted to get to that ideal as quickly as possible. But that wasn't how it worked. 

“Why can't you just take my money and let me be stupid like everyone else?” Dolph chuckled, setting the clipboard aside and unrolling a tape measure. 

“Maybe that's why I don't make nearly as much money as some of the guys in my line of work. Lose the shirt and hop on the scale.” 

After Dolph was done torturing him, they went out for some sandwiches. Mike made sure to get the best lettuce wraps, something Dolph wrinkled his nose at when it arrived at the table. Biting into it, Mike hummed in approval and sat back to savor the crisp lettuce and juicy tomato.

“How can you be a fitness and nutrition coach and not like lettuce wraps?” Dolph ordered something huge and carbo-licious. Thick Italian bread, meat and cheese pressed in the middle, grease dripping onto the plate. In all honesty, it looked and smelled delicious, but his stomach still rolled at the sight of it. 

“I don't mind them. In fact, I make a mean Cajun-style shrimp lettuce wrap. But I prefer something I actually enjoy on occasion. Especially when I've been torturing myself in the gym most of the week.” He pointed to Mike's food. “And those are the saddest wraps I've seen, by the way.” 

“You show me yours some time and then I'll decide.” A motorbike passed by, American flag billowing from the back. The city was alive around them, the sky clear and sunshine – though weaker than before – shone brightly over the busy street. Dolph snatched the last bite from him, making a face when he tasted it and shaking his head.

“Mine are definitely better. That's horrible.” Mike didn't have any classes for the day, and since it was his last Tuesday free, he was looking to enjoy it. So, they sat there for a while, chatting about their families – specifically around the holiday time – and that brought back the stupid Christmas party. Dolph paused in his story of one Christmas where he and Briley tried to bury their youngest brother in the snow to freeze him so he could wake in the future and furrowed his brows.

“You okay? You look like you ate a lemon.” He hadn't meant to make a face, and he wanted to brush it off as nothing. But, well, he should apologize for Ty. 

“Yeah. I was just thinking of the party. Of...Er, I wanted to apologize for Ty. I know I did at the party, but I just feel bad about how he acted.” Dolph chuckled, stirring his tea and watching the ice go around a few times.

“It's fine. Really. I mean, it _was_ a Christmas party. Mistletoe is part of the tradition, and most everyone knows what it means. I wasn't upset or anything.” Of course he wasn't, but that didn't make him not feel bad. Or keep him from wanting to _accidentally_ step on Ty's foot during a rehearsal. 

“Good. I just- He's insane. On my birthday, he was hitting on John. _John!_ ” Blue eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Birthday? Wait, what are you talking about? When did John and Tyler meet?” Mike waved his hand around in the air.

“Back in October? John threw me this surprise birthday party on one of the hiking trails. I couldn't believe he pulled it off and no one spoiled it. John and Ty are both notoriously bad secret keepers.” That didn't seem to clear anything up for Dolph, who was staring in his direction with this faraway look. Frowning.

“October?” What was this, echo hour? He chuckled.

“ _Yes._ Remember that day he told you to tell me to call him? He was asking if I had plans for my birthday.” He didn't get what was tripping Dolph up. It was just a birthday. They barely knew each other at that point, so it wasn't like it mattered. And he didn't know Dolph's birthday, now that he thought about it.

“He told me...He said he was going out. Hiking. He didn't say it was for your birthday, though.” Mike shrugged.

“Probably forgot to mention it. Or maybe he thought he did before. You know how he is.” Clearly, this was bothering him for some reason, so he decided to change the subject. “Hey, did the jersey fit okay? I wasn't sure your size. That shirt you let me borrow was snug on me, but jerseys can be a little tough.” 

“Oh, yeah. Fits perfectly. How the hell did you manage that one? I couldn't believe it when I opened it.” So it _was_ him being in awe of the present he gave. Relief rushed through his veins, his smile wild and bright.

“Good. And I know a guy or two. Back in New York. They hook me up with all kinds of limited edition football stuff. I entertain their daughters for a few hours while they work or go out.” Dolph snorted, stretching lazily in his seat.

“Sounds like every other person's story here. Everyone knows someone who can get them in this place or that one. But yeah, wow, thank you. I'm definitely wearing it for the Super Bowl. John and I are probably going to host a party if you want to come. We haven't decided yet because he's supposed to be getting a schedule nailed down for this thing he's shooting.” Like he could pass that up. He may be busy, but if he was available, he was there.

“We'll see how everything works out by that point. I'm sure bars will be playing it if all else fails.”

He skipped the studio on Wednesday, drained by the aerobics class Summer dragged him to and then the conditioning they did after at the academy, and Thursday was excruciatingly long. Brutal. Even Ty, the youngest and most energetic of the group, could barely move after the session, complaining and asking Mike again and again if his legs were still there.

The first song they were learning was a newer song by Meghan Trainor, and the apparent comeback of The Pussycat Dolls. _”Genetics”_ was a jamming song, and the choreography was just complicated enough to make it interesting. Stephanie took them through it along with Fandango, then everyone got a shot to go through it once before they broke it down and learned the movements. Mike would be taking this one to the studio.

Perhaps sans distracting men.

Ty was singing the song as they sat on the couch that evening, icing his shoulder while watching The Vampire Diaries. He flopped over on Mike, knocking his phone out of his hands and dramatically moaning about his poor ankle, which he twisted earlier that evening by screwing around while blasting Katy Perry. Served him right considering he was playing _”Peacock”_ and harassing Dream at the time. 

“Get off me, you idiot.” Carmella and Summer were painting each other's nails, Lexi wrapped in an Eeyore onesie while munching on apple slices and strawberry yogurt. It was a nice evening they were all spending together, nights of going out and enjoying the city left behind as things got serious. Ty reached for his phone, which Mike plucked off the couch before he could get his grubby hands on. 

“Keeping secrets? Ooh, I bet you're sexting the boyfriend.” Mike snorted, resuming his scroll through Instagram. Watching different dancers and noting their technique. There were so many different styles out there, and everyone added their own brand to the movements. 

“Even if he had one, you think he's the type? I bet he blushes when he sees someone in their underwear. No way he's writing dirty things to someone.” You know, it would be nice if they didn't talk about him like he wasn't sitting right there. 

“You guys really need to get a hobby. Maybe if this show wasn't so damn lame, you wouldn't be bored enough to talk about whether or not I sext people. And by the way? Not that it matters but I _have._ ” Ty sat up finally, rolling his eyes.

“Right, in the Stone Age. Before he found 'dance' and decided to commit to her as monks commit to God and people who hear voices commit themselves to institutions.” Mike didn't mind the teasing much, but how was it not old by now? Especially from Ty, who still seemed to have a new quip every time 'dating' and 'dance' were brought up in the same sentence. 

Just before getting into bed, Mike went through an old yoga flow he learned a few years ago to help him sleep better. Relishing the pull in his muscles and the way he felt so relaxed after he was finished. Dropping on the covers, he went out like a light.

Running through _”Oops”_ wasn't too bad for him, but trying to teach _”Break The Ice”,_ a more difficult choreography, left him completely worn out. Lifting his arms felt like trying to maneuver sixty-pound weights around, and his legs refused to take the steps fast enough when he ran through it for Dolph to watch. 

The end of the session found him collapsed on the floor, drenched in sweat and his entire body on fire and in pain. Dolph crouched next to him, clearly concerned. Maybe it was time to get them back to the gym on Fridays as well. Because between _”Genetics”_ and the hour-long conditioning he did, his body was just refusing to do another dance. To move another step it didn't need to do. Which sucked, because he liked their little dance class. Enjoyed watching Dolph pick up moves with this glowing smile. 

Plus, he didn't really like the idea of fooling around at the gym. 

“I think we should stick to the gym now. I'm sorry.” Dolph shrugged, offering him a smile that made him feel a lot better about letting him down. 

“It's cool. I like having my roommate not hate me or Queen Britney. And your physical health is my responsibility, so it's best to do what you're capable of.” He somehow managed to sit up, his abdominals on fire, and laughed.

“One class in and I'm falling apart. Maybe I should quit and go instruct classes in New York.” They cleared out the studio and soon they were in the sunshine, Dolph slipping his shades on and inhaling deeply. January was quickly approaching, and suddenly it occurred to him New Years was tomorrow night. How did he not realize sooner?

“Oh, hey. Are you guys doing anything for New Years?” He knew his friends were planning on watching the ball drop on the couch, too exhausted to plan a proper party. Dolph tossed his bag in the back of his truck and scratched his chin. 

“Not really. Well, I'm not. John's the party guy. Whatever he's doing I'm doing. So, there'll probably be a party.” He made a mental note to ask John and said his good-bye. Driving back to the dorms, he nearly fell asleep three times, so the second he was back in, he dropped into bed and slept. 

He groaned into his pillow, reaching out towards the nightstand and smacking his hand around until he finally found his phone, which was ringing. He was so changing his ringtone because that was terrible to wake up to. Barely able to blink his eyes open, he tried to say hello, but he imagined it came out a garbled mess.

“Hey, were you sleeping?” It was like drinking a shot of espresso, hearing that voice down the line. He pushed himself up on one arm, pulling the phone from his ear to see the time. It was a little past four in the afternoon, which meant he slept for nearly six hours. What a nap.

“Um, resting. What's up?” Quickly, he rolled over and got out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and pushing into the bathroom. Taking in his appearance for a moment.

“Well, you asked if we were doing anything for the New Year, and John told me to tell you he's having a party. I figured he would. But I know you guys are really tired, so don't worry about it if you can't come out. John has all his posh actor friends coming. Or maybe his nerdy friends. I'm not sure.” He put the phone on mute while he used the bathroom and washed his hands, and now he was on his bed again. Running a hand through his hair and deciding what he would be wearing. 

“Oh, no. That's fine. I'll ask the others, but I know I'll be there.” Dolph made a soft noise on the other end, disapproval obvious.

“If you're too tired, you shouldn't-” He decided on his cream turtleneck and black dress slacks.

“I'm fine. What's the dress code going to be?”

At eight o'clock, Mike, Ty, and Summer showed up at Dolph's door, and Mike was already sweating through his clothes. Perhaps a turtleneck wasn't the most...wise choice. The dress code was casual fancy, meaning nicer than jeans but suits not required, but maybe he could have at least worn a polo or something. Ty offered the bottle of champagne to John, who ushered them inside with a brilliant smile and a side hug for Mike. 

The party was already well underway when they made their way through the entryway. Thankfully, there weren't as many people as Mike feared there would be, John dragging him along to the refreshments and hurrying off to go entertain someone else. He was an excellent, if not a bit overzealous, party host. Ty and Summer marveled over the drink choices, Mike leaning against the table and searching the room while not trying to make it obvious he was looking for someone specific. 

“Mikey, get a load of this. Your friend has incredible taste. You sure he's straight? Because I would love-” He cut that off with a glare, turning to see what Ty was going on about. Summer had a pretty pink drink in this delicate glass, a strawberry already being devoured, while Ty handed Mike a chute of champagne. 

“Yes, and please keep all thoughts about my friend to yourself for the rest of my life. Because ew.” Ty rolled his eyes, moving to lean against the table too and leaning in.

“So, have you spotted you-know-who yet?” Why was his best friend an idiot? He needed to get new friends. Preferably normal ones who weren't insane.

“He has a name, and no. I haven't.” He glanced at the drink in Ty's hand and gave him a pointed look. “Go easy tonight, okay? For my sanity?” Naturally, Ty and Summer waved him off and then left him alone. Mingling easily with the crowd. And while he wasn't shy or anything, he wasn't the party type. He didn't go socialize with strangers for fun. 

“Come here often?” Thank the heavens. Dolph offered him an easy smile while adding a few drinks to the already stocked table, and a bowl of cream puffs. John's taste. 

“Hey, man.” Dolph was dressed up nicely in a blue long-sleeve that was tucked into another pair of snug dress slacks. Honestly...

“John sure knows how to throw a party at the last minute. I asked him this morning what he wanted to do and he had no idea. And now look.” The apartment was decorated with streamers and banners proclaiming the new year on them. Champagne was all around, and other drinks for those looking to party. Mike sipped his drink, crinkling his nose. 

And Dolph, honest to God, _giggled._

“What's so funny?” He shrugged, picking up a puff and examining it. Mike realized after a moment he was turning red. 

“Pretend you didn't hear that. Please.” Another time he might have teased him, but he was in a good mood and looking to have a nice time. So he merely smiled cheekily and raised his glass. 

“I know I'm adorable. You don't have to hide it.” Okay, maybe he couldn't quite keep from teasing. But it was worth it when the blush deepened and Dolph glared at him. John hurried over to them, carrying two platters of snacks and stopping short. Looking between them. Dolph groaned and turned to set his drink down, Mike holding out his hand to take it. 

“Oh, no. It's fine. You're not a waiter. I can just-” Dolph took one of the platters and steered John towards the room most filled with people, shooting Mike an exasperated look over his shoulder as he disappeared. 

It was a few sips into his second glass of champagne he remembered there was a certain tradition with New Years, and why did every holiday have to involve kissing? When midnight hit and it was officially a new year, people kissed. Something about good luck in relationships in the coming year or whatever. And while he knew who he wanted to kiss, he wasn't sure how that would go. Which made him stupidly nervous now, and having alcohol in his system was not helping. 

Dolph returned from his co-host duties a while later, looking surprised and apologetic.

“You didn't have to keep standing here. I think I saw Tyler in there, entertaining guests with his... brand of dancing.” Mike handed over the drink he was still holding and wondered what that could possibly mean. Part of him wanted to go check, but a larger part of him decided he didn't care that much. Tonight, he was not being Ty's guardian. 

“I was just thinking. You know...lost in my head.” There was loud cheering from the other room, which was definitely Ty's doing, but he sipped his champagne and focused on what Dolph was saying.

“Guys, it's nearly time!” Mike blinked and glanced over at John, who was looking between them again. Only this time he looked smug. And he realized then that they were breaching the personal space bubble most people held, getting lost in conversation and not noticing how they were slowly moving closer together. Abruptly, Mike stepped back, turning to grab two new glasses and handing one to Dolph, who was giving John a look he couldn't read. 

As he went to follow John, Dolph hesitated by the table they've been standing by all night. At Mike's curious look, he joined them, offering only a shrug in response to Mike's unspoken question. The room was crowded, couches and chairs filled. Others standing or sitting on the floor. There were even a few kids, some of whom Dolph waved to and made faces at. 

There was less than a minute left before the new year, glasses of champagne (or water) passed around and people rising from their seats. There was a flutter of anxiety in his chest as the numbers ticked down, glancing over at Dolph (who was talking to the pretty lady holding her toddler on her hip) and then picking out Ty and Summer. John had his arms around a blonde woman he didn't recognize, laughing at something she was saying and looking like a love-sick pup. 

He didn't even know John was seeing someone.

Around twenty seconds, he wondered if he could slip away without being noticed, maybe make a trip to the bathroom that lasted at least thirty seconds. He nearly jumped out of his skin when fingers trailed across his lower back, keeping him firmly by Dolph's side when they curled around his waist. The chatty mom disappeared finally, Dolph's attention returned to him. 

“You good?” Mike nodded, though he felt a bit sick now. Maybe eating all those snacks was a bad idea. Sugar and alcohol didn't always agree with him. “You're looking a little pale. Probably because you're wearing a turtleneck when it's seventy-five outside.” 

“Hey, I happen to look great in this, thank you.” Dolph gave him a long once-over, and now he was sweating to the extreme. Were there stains on his sweater? Why did he wear polyester pants? How was he supposed to dry his hands on them?

“Well, yes. But is that going to be worth passing out?” If it got him looks like that? Yes. 

His answer was cut off as people started counting down, kids jumping up and screaming at the television until it hit zero. And he couldn't tell you what happened next because he was lost in a long kiss, the arm around his back pulling him close and keeping him there. His hands settled on shoulders before he pulled back quickly, blinking out of the daze. The kiss was nice – actually, spectacular was a better word – but there was something in the way Dolph was looking at him that made him need to step back. To get some air. 

Excusing himself, he hurried over to the sliding glass door and stepped out into the night. It wasn't any cooler out there, but it was better than being inside. At least at the moment. Because right now? His insides were on fire, and he was replaying that kiss. The...that look. Over and over. Running hands through his hair.

“Mike?” It would have been nice to be alone for a moment, but he never got what he wanted. Or what he needed.

“Yeah, John?” They stood there for a moment, watching fireworks explode across the sky as people celebrated another year come and gone. The new one they were stepping into. 

“Any reason you're out here and not, you know, inside? I have a best friend in there looking a bit lost, and your friends are looking for you too.” There was a teasing tone to his words, but when Mike didn't return the humor, his face turned serious.

“What's wrong?” There wasn't anything wrong. Not exactly. But something changed tonight, and how cliché was it that it was on New Years? And it scared him because he didn't do feelings. And the thing with Dolph was never supposed to turn into a real thing. Just something fun that he could think back on in the future and laugh about. Smile back on. 

But...they never kissed like that before. Not without something coming from it. Not just to do it. It was messing with him, the way he loved it and yet never wanted to do it again. And maybe he was just overthinking it – it was New Years after all, and the tradition was to kiss someone – but what about that look on Dolph's face? Like Mike was a star or a galaxy. Like he was something _special._

There was no way he was spilling that, though, and he didn't want to burden John with his drama, so he merely shrugged and tugged at the collar of his sweater. 

“Wearing a turtleneck sweater when it's freaking California. I just got a bit hot. I'll be inside in a moment.” John let him be after that, telling him to take his time and shutting the door softly between them. He gave himself a few minutes to tuck the fears and troubling thoughts away and, fixing himself up, raised his glass to the night sky and prayed this year wasn't a total disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love when a story takes control and completely ignores the direction I want to go in... anyway, at this rate Chapter 7 will be posted in 2021!
> 
> To no one's surprise, I have song recommendations. Enjoy! And thank you for reading!
> 
> **Songs:**  
>  \- “Craving You” by Thomas Rhett  
> \- “Versace on the Floor” by Bruno Mars  
> \- “Every Kind of Way” by H.E.R.  
> \- “Something About the Sunshine” by Anna Margaret, Christopher Wilde (StarStruck Soundtrack)  
> \- “Love Lies” by Khalid ft Normani


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